


hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

by smoakoverwatch



Series: HP!au [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Mystery, but i will nerd out just a bit, don't trust everyone, dont need to be an hp expert to follow this, it'll be a ride, take it with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-12-15 08:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 84,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11802012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoakoverwatch/pseuds/smoakoverwatch
Summary: When Oliver Queen returns for his final year at Hogwarts with the mysterious death of his father hanging over his head, he doesn’t expect much to change. But when he meets Felicity Smoak, a brilliant force of nature with her own mysteries, everything does. As they fall in love and delve deep into the secrets of Hogwarts, they uncover many truths about themselves and the darkness within the magical world.Nothing will ever be the same.





	1. The Hogwarts Express

**Author's Note:**

> Hi... I've been writing a lot this summer, and I feel like I've grown enough to have the confidence to actually see a full multichapter fic through. Naturally, I come up with the most me-like thing I can. This idea came to me while I was doing a reread of the Harry Potter series, and I've been developing it for about two months now. I'm so excited to share. I have a good handful of chapters written already, so hopefully my uploading pace will be a steady weekly thing (I'm thinking Thursdays until hiatus ends)
> 
> I want to give huuuuuge thank yous to my fab beta Adrianne who holds my hand (lmao) and screams with me about this fic, and Sara who made this amazing poster (and /three/ others) for me and blew me away. 
> 
> Before I ramble on too long.... Enjoy!

 

 

There are few things Oliver knows as undeniable truths in his life.

One: His sister is, above all, his greatest responsibility.

Two: He wants to make his father proud.

Three: He absolutely _hates_ the train ride into Hogwarts.

Luckily for him, this will be the final September where he is subjected to the hours cooped up in the rolling tin can. The last fall where he’ll have to stare at the seemingly endless country and try to tune out the younger students restlessly wandering the hallways outside and chatting loudly.

Usually, his misery has company and makes the journey a little more bearable, but today he is not so lucky. His little sister, Thea, has decided that at thirteen years old she’s far too cool to be sitting with her older brother. His best friend Tommy is MIA, like he has been most summer, this time citing a Slytherin girl who simply _demanded_ his attention.

At least he gets the compartment to himself, he muses as he stretches his legs through the open space.

 _The Daily Prophet_ sits in his lap. He’d brought it on board to read, but so far he can only stare at the front headline – _Dark Magic on the Rise Again?_ – and the moving image of the Minister of Magic calmly explaining with that bland smile of his that _no,_ there was no foul play suspected in the murder of Robert Queen.

Oliver knows more than anyone that it’s all a bunch of public relations nonsense.

The back half of his summer had been overcome by the sudden death of his father, and the intense investigations that followed, so he’d know better than most how much the authorities were baffled.

He still isn’t sure what the worst part about the whole thing had been – watching his mother completely shut down or sitting in a gray room for hours on end while being treated like a hostile suspect in questioning.

It didn’t help that Oliver was the one who found his father’s body, sitting in the living room like a sick surprise for the Queen family to wake up to.

But really, the rumors that followed for weeks in the papers, that he would really kill his own father, probably took the cake. Speculation swirled about – tales of _friction_ between father and son, on a longstanding rivalry, tension, pressure, what have you, emerged from nowhere and circulated the press.

Nobody in his life that mattered – his mother and sister – believed it, but the very idea stung an already painful spot.

It died out eventually, and the press latched onto a new theory – that dark magic was involved, on the rise again and would surely get all wizards this time around.

It was a great scare tactic that the papers loved to use.

Ever since the fall of Voldemort at the hands of Harry Potter so many years ago, wizards still lived in constant fear that a new dark power would suddenly rise and start a third war. There was hardly any evidence of that, but every remotely suspicious occurrence brought on the dark magic rumors again.

And fear sold papers like nothing else.

It made him almost glad to get to escape from home for a while and start the school year. Though the student body at Hogwarts was not the most forgiving, at least no prodding journalists would be able to harass him about Death Eaters when he tried to get breakfast.

He tears his eyes away from the newspaper when he hears a soft knock on the compartment door, before it slides open a few inches, a blonde head poking in.

“Hi, I was just – _oh_ ” blue eyes that hide behind a pair of glasses widen. “I’m sorry – I didn’t realize you were in here. I was just looking for a place to sit. Every compartment is – well, _super_ full. But I can see that you’re here doing your brooding thing and I’ll just –“ she gestures behind her, trailing off.

Almost of its own accord, Oliver feels his head shake. “You can sit here, if you want.”

Bright pink lips turn upward in surprise. “Thanks.”

She shuffles in, hiding a grimace as she drags her trunk in and avoids eye contact, moving through the compartment as it to be as undisruptive as she can possibly be.

Oliver doesn’t realize he watches her movements until she falls into the seat in front of him, looking at him for a second before her eyes widen and she turns to the window outside.

He also doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches his own reflection in the glass and has to wipe it off.

A few minutes pass in silence, the girl’s eyes stay almost diligently trained on the window outside but Oliver can’t help stealing glances at her curiously.

Finally, he follows his need to speak up.

“You’re American?” he says, forcing his voice into what he hopes is casual. She tears her gaze away from the passing fields with those wide eyes again, the surprise that he’s speaking to her evident on her face.

“Yeah.” She sputters. “Yes, I am.” She presses her lips tightly together, as though stopping herself from saying more. It’s a curious thing.

“So if you’re American why are you…” he gestures around him.

“Why am I here and not there?” she says with a small smile. “Wish I knew the answer. My mother’s a Muggle, so she didn’t know about any of this stuff. When I got my letter, I just assumed Hogwarts was the only school in the world, which sounds pretty silly in retrospect I guess.” She gives a small shrug. “I guess I was just meant to be here.”

It’s a really simple way of looking at things. He almost admires it.

She doesn’t ask about his own nationality, likely because everyone in this part of the world already knows about the story. Robert Queen sweeping in from America after the war and using his resources to help put everything – including Hogwarts – back in working order, and setting up his lucrative business here.

It’s only at this point does he realize he doesn’t know the girl’s name.

“I’m Oliver,” he offers with a smile.

“Right,” she responds automatically. She pauses. Then blinks. “I mean – I know who you are, obviously. It’s kind of hard not to –” She gestures to the newspaper in his lap. “— with everything that’s been going on.” Her mouth drops open and she looks as if she’s about to apologize, but Oliver stops her with a shake of his head.

She takes a deep breath, looking to the ceiling as if mentally counting down. “I’m Felicity.”

“Felicity,” he repeats, the smile that lands on his face when he says her name almost automatic. “Nice to meet you.”

Felicity returns the grin. “Likewise. Sorry about the—” she moves her hand from her mouth to the floor a few times. “— you know. I would say it’s not a normal thing, but unfortunately this is pretty much my default setting.”

He can’t help but stare at her with a grin on his face, wondering why he’d never met her earlier. Are they in the same year?

When he voices his question, she shakes her head. “I’m a sixth year, actually. And I’m in Ravenclaw.” She nods to the scarlet Gryffindor scarf that sits on his trunk. “So that’s probably why we’ve never run into each other.”

He nods slowly, taking in the blonde in front of him with a growing smile on his face, wondering where she’s been hiding from him all this time.

* * *

 When Felicity knocked on the last compartment of the train’s door, she really didn’t expect to run into _Oliver Queen._ Even less so did she expect to actually sit down and make conversation with him, past the realm of small talk and diving into anything and everything.

She thought she had known Oliver Queen before – the talk about him never ceased even before his father’s mysterious and unfortunate death – but she was wrong. The Oliver that sits before her is not at all what she’d been led to believe.

Talk around Hogwarts outlined a confident, outgoing star student who charmed all of his teachers with his words and not his wand. Girls in bathrooms gossiped about him being a shameless flirt, a heartbreaker with lines for days but an irresistible attitude.

The boy that sits in front of her today is nothing like the talk.

He’s quiet, just a touch aloof and holds himself tightly. He’s not surrounded by a _harem_ of women like the rumors would make it seem, but seemed quite content to be by himself before she walked in.

But what she likes most about sitting with Oliver is talking to him. His eyes don’t glaze over like so many others do when her mouth runs away with her, but sparkle in amusement.

He lets her do the talking, but carries the conversation well, prompting her with questions about her: her house, her summer, her interests.

He’s an attentive listener, she notices in the middle of a story about her mom discovering she’s a witch, when he leans in as she speaks and never dares to look away. And if he licks his lips in response to her leaning in too, well, that’s probably just her imagination.

“So, she really wanted to put you on TV?” he says with a laugh.

“I know.” She rolls her eyes. “What kind of mother looks at her magical daughter and thinks, we can totally make bank on this, right? But that’s her. All about the drama.”

“Sounds like an interesting woman.”

“She is.” Felicity looks out the window, the familiar ache of realizing she won’t see Donna Smoak for another ten months hitting her again. “I give her a hard time, but she really has worked hard for me. My dad wasn’t really around, so…” she trails off, suddenly very focused on the setting sun outside.

“I’m sorry.” Oliver says softly.

“Don’t be.” She looks back at him and shrugs. “I grew to realize it was his loss, not mine.”

Oliver looks back at her with what she doesn’t _want_ to describe as amazement, but his eyes are wide and a small, appreciative smile grows on his face at her words. She’s heard a lot about his smirks and charming smiles, but this one, which feels like a rare gift, is something she’d rather keep any day. “That’s a nice way of looking at it.”

He leans further into the empty space between them, his elbows resting on his knees. Only later will Felicity realize that she mirrors his response.

“I always liked to think so.” Her voice drops to a whisper.

They fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound between them is the gentle rocking of the train.

When the compartment door slides open, both of them fly back into their seats.

“Hey, Ollie I think it’s — _oh._ ” Felicity looks up to see a dark-haired boy giving a suggestive smile and looking at the compartment. “Hello there, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Ollie was with someone.”

Across from her, Oliver rolls his eyes. “Tommy, this is Felicity. Felicity, my best friend Tommy.”

Tommy’s looks at her carefully. “Felicity,” he repeats, a sparkle of something unrecognizable flitting through his eyes. “Sorry to interrupt you two, I just came to tell Oliver here that we’re almost at Hogwarts and he should probably change into his uniform now.”

Felicity looks out the window again to see that it’s twilight outside, meaning they’d be reaching the castle any minute.

“Oh!” she says in surprise, jumping from her seat. “I guess I should be getting on that too.”

Tommy looks at her with a raised eyebrow and a smirk – so unlike the looks Oliver had met her with all these hours it feels strange to see.

When the train does stop at Hogsmeade station, Felicity tries to be the first person off. She thinks she can hear Oliver calling out from behind her, but that could be the noise of the crowd playing tricks on her. She finds a carriage to take up the castle with a group of rowdy second years and ignores the way Oliver stops just short of where she takes off, kicking the dirt.

Yes, when she knocked on the compartment door, she didn’t expect to run into Oliver Queen. She didn’t expect to get to know him, or to instantly grow quite as fond of him as she is now.

But Tommy Merlyn’s arrival reminded her what life would be like once they stepped off the train.

That’s why, as she makes her way into the castle with the memories of the ride in fresh on her mind, Felicity doesn’t expect she’ll see much of Oliver Queen in the school year.


	2. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out, Felicity is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! The response for the first chapter made me feel all the things, thank you thank you thank you all so much.
> 
> Some quick things to address from the comments I got: this takes place in present day, ie about twenty years after the events of the Harry Potter series (1991-98). Also, for people who aren’t into HP but are here anyway I’ll try to clear things up in the text, but if anything confuses you just ask!!
> 
> Anyway, here it is. Of the ~six chapters I’ve written so far, this is probably my least fave (I made my beta read it with chapter 3 in hopes that it would soften the blow of sucky, but she seemed to like it), but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Headmistress Amanda Waller is a terrifying woman.

Everyone knows this, of course.

It’s been said that the woman fought firsthand in the war, was taken by Death Eaters and tortured for information but fought her own way out. The curse scar that runs along her jaw and neck tells its own story altogether.

Felicity can’t focus on any of that right now.

In fact, it’s the headmistress’s hard eyes that keep Felicity frozen in her seat. Her mouth is pinched into a hard line.

When she was summoned into her office after the Welcome Feast, Felicity didn’t quite know what to expect.

She still doesn’t, frankly, because it’s been a good minute of her just _staring_ at Felicity in what has to be some kind of creepy intimidation tactic, letting the student stew over whatever it is they did wrong.

Except, Felicity hasn’t done anything wrong. So she sits semi-patiently, trying to match the stare and ignore the dozens of portraits of former Headmasters staring down at her judgmentally.

Finally, after a maddening three minutes (yes, she counted every second), Waller does a strange thing.

She smiles.

It’s gone as soon as it appears, and she looks down at the set of documents in front of her. “Felicity Smoak,” she reads. “Sixth year. Ravenclaw. Exceptionally bright.”

_Oh please, Waller, you’re making me blush._

“You did extraordinarily well on your O.W.L.s last year,” Waller holds the letter that contains Felicity’s standardized testing results, “Ten Outstanding grades. Only a few wizards have gotten close to that. Hermione Granger only had nine.”

Felicity shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

“Oh – well, I think her circumstances –“ she cuts herself off at Waller’s look, shrinking back in her seat.

Making someone feel inferior while complimenting them has to be a skill. Waller should teach a class about it or something.

“When I got these results, I asked your professors about you. They all speak very highly of your abilities. It made me wonder why I hadn’t noticed you sooner,” Felicity can’t help but smile as Waller flips to a different page. “Muggleborn?”

The small grin drops almost instantly.

“Um – well, I’m really not sure. My mother, yeah, totally a Muggle but my dad – I don’t really … Um…”

Waller narrows her eyes only slightly, but nods in understanding.

“I’m sorry I asked. I was just curious. But as I was saying, your achievements are extraordinary, and I would be remiss to let such talent go unnoticed under my leadership.”

The warmth creeping on Felicity’s ears returns, but she can’t help it. It’s not every day the most terrifying woman on planet Earth (arguably) sings your praises.

“I didn’t just call you in here to read the achievements you already know of and make you uncomfortable. Yes, Miss Smoak, I did notice,” she says with a smile when Felicity’s mouth drops open slightly, “I wanted to discuss your options for this year with you.”

“My… options?”

Waller nods.

“While looking through your written exams and your teacher notes on your practicals, I noticed you display advanced technique and are likely ahead of many of your classmates. Potions, especially, you were noted to have exceptional skill in. I looked into it deeper, and I think putting you in the next class would be beneficial for your learning.”

Felicity’s mouth drops open at her words.

“Are you even allowed to do that?” she blurts out. The minute she does, she wishes she could take it back, because the look Waller gives her makes her want to drop straight into the ground and disappear.

The corner of Waller’s lip twitches and she ignores Felicity’s question.

“Nothing has to be permanent, we can just let you use this week as a test, get a feel for it and see if you feel comfortable jumping to an advanced class. It’s something of a pilot project, as we’ve never had a student quite like you before,” she gives another rare smile, and Felicity wonders if anyone will believe this meeting happened later.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to say.”

“Think about it,” she hands a timetable, showing the seventh year Potions class in the very first slot, “The spot is open for you if you want it.”

Felicity stares at the words carefully.

“I will,” she decides. Though Waller nods in response, assuming Felicity means she’ll consider it, but Felicity’s mind is made up.

“You must be tired from the train ride in. I’ll let you get some rest now. Check in with me at the end of the week.”

Felicity gets up, knowing a dismissal when she hears one, and walks out of the office in a sort of daze.

* * *

 “Wait, she said _what_?”

Dinah Drake is, historically, very expressive. And sometimes a little loud. Which is why Felicity probably shouldn’t have told her the news over breakfast the next day, as her response makes more heads turn than she’s comfortable with.  

All she can do is nod and pick at her banana muffin.

“Yeah. She smiled and everything, you should have seen it, Di.”

“I wish I had,” Dinah responds thoughtfully, stealing a piece off Felicity’s muffin, “I almost don’t believe you. But that doesn’t matter. What _does_ matter is that you’re finally getting the recognition that you deserve.”

She gives her a nudge on the shoulder.

“I’m so proud.”

Felicity ducks her head and takes a sip of her orange juice. The recognition has only felt stranger when she had a night’s sleep to think on it.

“So, you’re gonna do it, right?” Dinah pushes.

Felicity nods.

“Yeah. I really want to. And I think I’d be good at it.”

Her friend smiles

“Good. I wouldn’t let you do otherwise. And it’s obvious that you’ll kill it. Who knows, maybe you’ll graduate early and abandon me," she says with a mock frown, and Felicity rolls her eyes in response.

“It doesn’t work that way Di…”  Her response is cut off by the entrance of the Great Hall.

It’s Oliver.

Oliver, who tried very hard to catch her attention after the train ride last night. And during dinner an hour later. And who most definitely had her attention all night. By her thoughts, she means.

His eyes find hers for a split second, brow twitching just a bit before striding to the Gryffindor table. As he walks, a few more heads turn and whispers pick up, the morning’s Daily Prophet – still running yesterday’s story about Robert Queen’s murder and dark magic, must be a slow day – being passed around.

If Oliver notices that he’s subject to more than a few conversations – and Felicity has no doubt that he does – he doesn’t let on, finding an empty space at the end of the table, and pouring coffee into a mug.

It’s hard not to watch him and feel bad. She can’t even begin to imagine what that kind of attention feels like. She knows from their short time together the day before that whatever happened over the summer weighs him down far more than he lets on, and she can see it in how tightly he holds himself now.

She observes as the first year that sits closest to him scarf his cereal down and scurries off the table and frowns, as if Oliver is dangerous at all.

“Felicity?” Dinah pulls her out of her musing. “You okay?” .

She shakes her head.

“Sorry, was just thinking about… the rest of the day.”

Dinah nods slowly.

“You’ve been kind of off since we got into school yesterday.”

“Well, you would know all about that since you completely abandoned me on the train yesterday," Felicity deflects, a teasing-accusatory tone colours her words.

Her friend suddenly finds the plate in front of her interesting.

“I looked all over for you and couldn’t find you.”

Felicity can only roll her eyes.

“Sure you did,” she glances at her watch – a tacky pink thing from a Vegas gift shop, Donna Smoak’s idea of a memento – and gets up from the table. “I’ll bother you more about that later, I’m going to be late for my first class.”

Dinah shakes her head.

“Your late is everyone else’s still eating or rolling out of bed, you do know that right?”

Felicity gives her friend a nudge on the shoulder as she leaves.

“Later, Di.”

* * *

True to habit, Felicity is the first to arrive to class. The Great Hall was still mostly packed when she left, so that doesn’t surprise her. She finds a seat in the front and settles in, pulling out the year seven Potions textbook that Waller gave her as a loaner, flipping through the pages idly.

It occurs to her when she hears people shuffling around in the hallways that being the youngest in a room full of people who have known each other for seven years might bring its own set of problems. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat, the blue tie around her neck suddenly feeling tighter.

Some older Ravenclaw students she recognizes from their common room walk in, one or two even offering surprised smiles and staring conversation with her before taking their own seats. It certainly helps, as she feels her back straighten and assurance that she’s meant to be here settle in.

A different kind of bad feeling returns, however, as more students file in, ones with Gryffindor ties around their necks, and she’s hit with the realization that she never once looked at which house she’d be sharing the class with.

 _It’ll probably be fine,_ she tells herself, _maybe it’s a fluke, maybe they’re in the wrong class, maybe he won’t –_

“You again," the voice makes Felicity wince. A soft drawl, a hint of amusement. She looks up to see Oliver – who else? – standing next to her desk. His eyebrow is quirked up, not unlike earlier this morning, and he gives her a hint of a smile.

“Oliver,” she says, after maybe a few too many seconds of awkward gaping. “Hi. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Thought you said we aren’t in the same year?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“We aren’t. It’s, ah, it’s a long story.”

“Hm,” he pulls the chair next to her back, and she isn’t entirely sure if he heard her. “This seat taken?”

She shakes her head in response, but it makes no difference, Oliver wastes no time in setting his bag down on the desk next to her.

“I’d love to hear that long story,” he finally says, “Maybe after the one about why you ran out like a bat out of hell when the train stopped yesterday.”

She grimaces.

“Caught that, huh?”

“Kind of hard not to,” he says seriously, and Felicity has to fight another wince.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I realize that was pretty rude of me.”

She doesn’t bother to offer an excuse, but he smiles anyway.

“It’s fine,” He taps the table in front of him once, “So, you said something about a long story?”

She sighs.

“I did.” She looks around her helplessly, knowing that the truth would come out eventually. “There’s no way to say this without sounding…. braggy.”

The corner of Oliver’s mouth twitches. “I think I can handle it.”

“Okay…well…I kind of met with Waller yesterday after dinner and she talked to me about my grades and suggested I would benefit from an … advanced class.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow.

“So, you’re some kind of genius?”

She feels her ears go hot.

“Oh no – nothing like that. This is more of an experiment, really. It probably won’t be permanent, Waller just put me here to see if I could do it," she shoves a strand of hair behind her ear nervously.

Oliver watches her carefully, that small unreadable smile still on his face.

“Something tells me that isn’t completely true.”

She’d like to retort, but the Potions professor walks in, calling her attention to the front. She tries very hard not to focus on the fact that Oliver is still looking at her curiously.

* * *

Oliver is staring.

He’s well aware of this, and it’s starting to become a problem.

But there’s just something about her. She holds her head high when their professor scans the room and notices her, his own eyes sparking up in recognition. He mutters something about “the young star in our class” that makes Felicity’s cheeks go pink as she uncomfortably runs a finger through the end of her blonde ponytail.

But he isn’t wrong, Oliver notices.

Though at first the attention made Felicity sink into her seat, she quickly finds her stride and answers questions with ease, bewildering Oliver as she takes part in the review of sixth year material – things she shouldn’t have even known.

When class ends, Oliver finds himself glued to her side as they walk out.

He asks her how she knows so much, and she gives a little shrug. “I read a lot,” she says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Not much else to do in Vegas with my mother all summer.”

He nods. He definitely underestimated Felicity Smoak.

“So, how did Waller’s little _experiment_ ,” he uses her word from earlier, “turn out for you? Think you’re going to stay?”

Felicity looks back at the door behind them, and back at him with a thoughtful smile.

“Yeah, I think I might.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come yell at/with me:  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch


	3. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver never liked Halloween. Turns out, his disdain is justified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Thursday all :) Thank you once again for your kind words last chapter.
> 
> This one has a little bit more plot progression, and a character I've never actually written before. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The first two months of school passed by with relative ease for Oliver. The added workload of his final year meant he was given a break from the whirlwind that was his summer.

It wasn’t long before the leaves changed outside the castle, and the familiar decorations went up and Oliver realized it was Halloween.

Halloween didn’t mean much to Oliver personally, but for whatever reason it was a special affair at Hogwarts. He didn’t see the point in the holiday, or the need to celebrate with the same imagery muggles considered scary.

He muses over this as he watches the Great Hall get prepared for the day over breakfast, before his owl, Fletch, flew in and dropped a scary surprise of his own.

Thick paper. Impeccable penmanship. A familiar wax seal. Oliver didn’t need to read the envelope to know this was a letter from Moira Queen.

The message inside was short, to the point.

_Dear Oliver,_

_Something has come up, and I need to discuss the matter with you in person. I’ve arranged to come to Hogwarts this evening with permission of your Headmaster. She has been kind enough to let us use her office._

_Please meet me there at 7 p.m. sharp. Don’t tell your sister._

_Moira D. Queen_

Oliver reads the letter over three times, his brows furrowing. The urgency in her words is clear, but what Oliver hates is that she wants him to keep this a secret from Thea.

Like any child would, Thea took the death of their father hard. She tries to hide it at school, but Oliver can tell from the rare moments they run into each other that Thea was affected far more than she let on, and that she missed their mother dearly.

A visit from Moira would do help her so much, why would his mother not want that for her?

Oliver has no time to dwell on his thoughts further, because a familiar voice shouts out – “Ollie!” and pulls him away from the letter.

“Tommy,” he says with a grin  as the other boy pats his shoulder in greeting.

“Hey man,” Tommy wastes no time in sitting next to him and grabbing an apple from the fruit tray. “I feel like we’ve barely seen each other this year.”

Oliver nods sheepishly. He really hasn’t been spending a lot of time with his best friend.

“Classes have been keeping me busy, I guess.”

“Right,” Tommy says, his eyes trailing around them, seeming disinterested. When he lands on the paper in Oliver’s hands, he lightens up. “Oooh, what’s that?”

Oliver immediately flips the page over.

“It’s nothing, just a letter from my mom.”

Though he’d love to talk about this issue with someone, especially his best friend, he can’t be sure that Tommy will be able to hide this from Thea, especially since the two of them share the same house and see each other more than Oliver does.

“Oh, I get it,” Tommy leans back with a smirk, “Trying to hide how much of a momma’s  boy you are.”

Oliver laughs dryly.

“Something like that.”

“Whatever,” Tommy takes a loud bite out of his apple. “Anyway. It’s been awhile since I’ve really gotten to hang out with you. I feel like I don’t even see you outside or having fun anymore.”

Oliver feels frustration mount in him. It’s not like Oliver really saw Tommy around this summer either, especially after his father’s death. His friend cited travelling the world with his father as the reason he couldn’t be there for him.

“Haven’t really felt like having _fun_ lately, Tommy,” he snaps.

Tommy’s easygoing smile drops and he shakes his head.

“Oliver, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize –“

Oliver holds a hand up. He’s not in the mood to fight today.

“It’s fine. Don’t mention it,” he crumples the letter in his hand and shoves it in his pocket, “I’m sorry I snapped. You’re right. I haven’t really been myself.”

“No worries,” Tommy’s smile is back like it never left. “If you want to loosen up again, though, tonight is the perfect night. We’re holding a Halloween party in the Slytherin common room. Come by if you want.”

“Halloween party.” Oliver repeats flatly. When Tommy nods enthusiastically in response, Oliver almost laughs. Tommy makes him feel like he’s living a bad cliché sometimes.

“Don’t give me that look,” Tommy points a finger up, “I know you’re interested. And even if you’re not, come by anyway. Blow some steam off. Loosen up. You deserve it.”

He claps his hand on Oliver’s shoulder before jumping off the table with a grace only Tommy Merlyn can achieve.

Oliver mulls over his words carefully, but the letter he tried to hide feels as though it’s burning a hole right through his pocket.

* * *

Oliver spends the rest of the day almost dangerously distracted, a sense of foreboding hanging over him over all the possible outcomes from his meeting with his mother.

None of his classes went by well. His professors took notice and wasted no time in using it as an opportunity to call him out.

In Potions, he used ginger root in a potion when he wasn’t supposed to and created a foul smell throughout the entire class that gave Felicity a headache. Hearing her quietly complain and hold her head certainly didn’t help improve his mood any.

Defense was no better, where he thought he could get away with just sitting and listening he was called on and asked to demonstrate a spell in front of the whole class, incorrectly using a defensive spell and being knocked off his feet.

Everyone laughed, and strangely he could only feel glad Felicity wasn't there to see it.

When lunch came around he really didn’t feel like eating much, but that didn’t stop a second year kid from spilling juice all over his uniform and making him late for class.

All in all, it hasn’t exactly been Oliver’s day.

By the time 7 p.m. rolls around, the stress Oliver felt at the thought of his meeting is replaced by relief that his awful day can be done with.

When he does walk into the Headmaster’s office – not for the first time in his Hogwarts career, if he’s being honest – the only person inside is his mother.

Moira Queen is known for her poise and confidence. Her ability to be perfectly put together even when in the eye of a storm.

Today she has none of those things.

Oliver notices immediately when she stands up from her chair to embrace him.

“Oliver,” she sighs tiredly. When he puts his arms around her, he can feel under his palms how much weight she’s lost. She pulls away and gives him a smile, but it barely reaches her eyes. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom, are you okay?” She doesn’t respond, instead running her eyes over him several times as if to scan for any injuries.

“Let’s sit down,” she gestures to the seating in the office.

He hesitates before he sits down, but the tremble in his mother’s movements makes him comply.

“Mom, please,” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees, “you’re scaring me. What’s going on that you had to come all the way down here and that I can’t tell Thea?”

His mother looks at her hands and sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. And I’m sorry for making you lie to your sister.” When she still doesn’t meet his eyes, Oliver feels the frustration that built up all day come to surface.

“Mom! What is going on!” he cries out.

His outburst snaps her out of whatever trance she seemed to be in before. Finally, her tired eyes meet his.

“I wish I could be seeing you under better circumstances. But the truth is something is wrong. Have you received any strange messages recently, Oliver? Unmarked letters, that kind of thing?”

He narrows his eyes.

“No… I haven’t… I would have told you.”

“Right, right," she trails off, looking at a spot on the carpet.

She gets lost in her own thoughts for a moment, and Oliver wonders if he'll have to shout again to bring her back.

"There is no easy way to say this,” she finally says, clasping her hands in her lap, “I’ve been receiving a number of threats both at home and at work, aimed at our family.”

Oliver feels his stomach drop. Suddenly his anger seems silly, and instead he feels only guilt.

“What? What kind of threats? What did they say?”

She only shakes her head.

“I don’t want to worry you with the details. But what you do deserve to know is that many of them were specifically about you and Thea.”

Oliver is silent for a long time, trying to process what his mother’s words mean. A million questions hang off his tongue, but he doesn’t know where to start.

Moira misreads his silence.

“Oh, Oliver, I didn’t tell you this to worry. I just want you to be aware. I’ve been working with the Ministry to trace the source of all these threats. And Hogwarts is the safest place for both of you right now. I’ve made your Headmaster aware of the situation and she’ll be taking precautions on this end.”

Oliver knows a situation he can’t control when he sees one.

“Okay.”

“There’s just one thing I need to ask of you, and you aren’t going to like it.”

Oliver closes his eyes.

“Mom…”

She ignores him.

“While it goes without saying that I want you to be more careful and cautious of everything around you… I need to remind you that this stays between you and me.”

“Mom! Thea –”

“Is just a child," she speaks over him, and it makes him ball his fists in frustration, “Telling her this would only worry her.”

“She has a right to know if it involves her,” he argues.

“I don’t want to add to the already hard year she’s been having, Oliver.”

“If she finds out about this,” he says lowly, “She’ll be furious.”

“She will be happy we didn’t burden her with something out of her control,” his mother says firmly, “I’m telling you this because you can look out for both of you when I’m not here.”

Oliver knows he’s lost the argument. But he also knows this won’t end well.

“Fine.”

“It’s getting late,” Moira stands up and Oliver follows. “I’m sorry to throw all of this on you, but it’s for the best, Oliver, really.”

He doesn’t want to end this with a fight. Not after this new danger hanging over their heads. “Right,” He pulls her into a hug of farewell, “It was good seeing you, mom.”

She pulls away and cups his cheek, tracing over his face one last time with her eyes one last time.

She exits through the fireplace without another word, just giving him one last glance before she walks into the fire, returning to their own fireplace, no doubt.

When Oliver walks through the empty hallways, he wonders how late it’s gotten. He’s definitely missed the Halloween feast, but his appetite is far from gone, and frankly he’d rather go back to his room and turn in early, put this entire mess of a day behind—

“Oof!”

His thoughts are cut off when he runs, quite literally, into a mass of familiar blonde curls and specs.

Felicity.

“Whoa there,” she says with a laugh, “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry,” he says distractedly, putting a hand on her shoulder in apology. “I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s fine,” she looks up at him and pushes her glasses back in place. When she really looks at him, she frowns.

“Everything okay? You’ve been kind of off all day and right now you have ….” she trails off.

His eyebrow quirks up. “I have…?” he asks half challengingly, half teasingly.

She lifts her hands up – one holding a stack of books, he observes – and points them downwards. “Frowny face.”

“Frowny face,” he repeats dryly. She nods with a hint of a smile that he can’t help but mirror.

A flippant “it’s nothing” hangs off the tip of his tongue, ready to fall out and let Oliver spin on his heel and stalk to his room.

But one look at Felicity’s eyes, wide with a kind of genuine concern Oliver isn’t used to seeing, and the realization that he really, _really_ is not okay, makes him decide otherwise.

He shakes his head almost helplessly.

“I’m… I don’t know. A lot’s been going on lately, and I just had to meet with my mother – and – and, now I need to lie to my sister and I don’t – I don’t –“ he looks at his feet when his eyes –mortifyingly – start to burn.

Instantly, Felicity moves forward. She sets the books down on the ground and puts an arm on his shoulder.

“Oliver,” she says gently, ducking her head down to meet his eyes, “Look at me. Relax, okay? Breathe.”

He pauses and takes a breath.

“Good,” she says with a small smile.

“That sounds like a lot. And I don’t mean to pry, but do you want to talk about it with me? In, you know,” she waves a hand around, “Full sentences that I’ll actually understand.”

He huffs out a laugh.

“I really would.”

“Okay, good,” she nods and pushes up her glasses almost determinedly. “You need some fresh air. Let’s walk around a bit outside, get you to cool down, and then we’ll sit somewhere, okay?”

He looks at her, puzzled at her words and she immediately takes notice.

“What?” she asks, self consciously shoving a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

“Nothing,” he says, finding his throat strangely dry and forcing himself to clear it. “I just… going outside after hours? Isn’t that against the rules?”

He forces a small smirk, but it feels unnatural.

Felicity must notice, but she takes pity on him anyway and mirrors his expression.

“Well from what I hear, it wouldn’t be the first time you broke a few rules, _Mr. Queen,_ ” It’s all forced banter, both of them trying to clear the thick, uncomfortable air his little outburst created, but he’s grateful for it.

“I’m just worried I’m starting to rub off on you,” he nudges gently, and she quirks an eyebrow up.

“Who said this is the first time I’ve broken the rules, Oliver?” she says with an almost sing-song voice, gently taking him by the arm and leading him through the empty hallways.

She leads them just outside the castle, and they settle under a tree that faces away from the school and hides them from immediate view.

“All right,” Felicity says authoritatively, pushing her glasses up her nose once more. “Start at the beginning.”

“I guess… it started this morning, when my mom sent me a letter saying she was going to come visit to discuss something…”

From there, the words tumble out.

It’s surprisingly easy. When he launches into the threats (and the weight of what that truly means hits him) and ends at the lie he promised to keep, his chest feels noticeably lighter. His head less cloudy. When he looks at her again, her face glowing from the small light she has coming off her wand, and he feels like he can see her clearer.

She’s looking up at him with raised eyebrows – no judgement, just surprise.

“Wow," she says finally, “That’s… a lot.”

He laughs, because, it’s sufficient and somehow it isn’t. He rests his head against the tree trunk.

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, Felicity,” he says, looking up at the stars that hang over their head. “Lying to Thea, every day. Acting like her life – all of our lives – aren’t in danger. How am I supposed to keep her safe if I’m keeping her in the dark like this?”

Beside him, Felicity’s head lands on his arm. Briefly it occurs to him that he’s been monopolizing her time more than he realized, and it must be late.

“Oliver,” she says in that steady-as-a-rock voice he’s come to grow fond of, “It’s not your duty to keep her safe. Yes, you need to look out for each other, but if something were to happen here, in one of the safest places in the continent, there would be little you could have done to stop it.

“For now, maybe your mother is right. It’s too early to know, but if you tell Thea you’re adding a lot of stress on a thirteen-year-old girl who just lost her father,” almost as if she can sense Oliver’s mouth opening to argue, she pushes more forcefully, “And _if_ you think it’s getting to a point where she should know, make the decision and tell her.”

Oliver leans his head down to look at her blonde head resting on his arm in awe, wondering how he could have gotten so lucky to stumble upon her (or _be_ stumbled upon, as it were).

She lifts her head up almost shyly.

“Did that help?”

“More than you could know,” he says softly, “Thank you.”

She gives another soft smile.

“You never have to thank me.”

He returns the gesture.

“I’m just grateful I ran into you after that meeting,” he pauses and frowns, a different thought entirely occurring to him.

“What were you doing roaming the halls so late anyway?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Felicity’s eyes flash with guilt – like she’s been caught.

“Oh I was just in the library…” she waves a hand dismissively, “Reading. Researching. Taking out some books.”

He narrows his eyes slightly.

“Felicity…” he really looks at her for the first time that night, and the faint purple lines that trace under her own eyes. “Are _you_ okay? You look really tired.”

She gives his face a tap, with a sad smile that cuts through his chest.

“Must be something in the water, then.”

It’s deflection, he knows it from trying it not an hour ago on her, but it’s late and her eyelids are getting heavier, so he lets her this time.

“Come on,” he gets up and offers a hand down to help her up. When they stand side by side, Oliver tries to ignore how strange the lack of proximity makes him feel. “Let me walk you back to you room.”

They walk into the castle in a comfortable silence, in quiet acknowledgement that whatever happened tonight shifted the young friendship they had.

When Oliver walks back to Gryffindor tower, he idly remembers Tommy’s party offer. He knows if he turned now he could still make it.

Though once he wouldn’t have hesitated, Oliver knows he doesn’t feel like he needs to blow off that steam anymore.

When he heads to bed that night, though the cloud of threats still hang over his head, the last thing he sees before sleeping is a pair of bright blue eyes behind warm brown glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: finding out what the hell is up with Felicity.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch


	4. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity is a bit off her usual game. It doesn't take long for Oliver to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Friday :) Sorry this is a day late, I just figured with the AO3 maintenance happening when I usually post, I'd wait.
> 
> I hope you like this one, I personally did. If it feels like an inversion of the last chapter, that is totally intentional.
> 
> Enjoy!

“You look tired,” Dinah comments over her morning coffee.

Lifting her head from the surprisingly comfortable surface of the table, Felicity gives a mocking smile.

“Do I?”

Dinah nods.

“Mhmm,” she sets her drink down, “And it’s not your usual, _I’m overworking myself to death,_ kind of tired either.”

"Well then," Felicity frowns.

Her friend shrugs in a ‘I speak only the truth’ kind of way.

“You know, you’re welcome to sit at the Hufflepuff table – your own – if you want.”

“And I’ve told you before I swear they give your house better coffee,” she responds without missing a beat, “But seriously, Felicity, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Felicity yawns, “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

It’s an oversimplification, she knows. But she’d rather _not_ get into the truth - the truth being that in the past week, a series of strange and confusing dreams had been stealing her nights and giving her the growing headache she has now.

Lucky for her, Dinah knows better than to press,

“If you say so,” she looks over Felicity’s shoulder, “Your future replacement for me is walking here, by the way.”

“My what?”

The answer comes from behind her.

“Hey, Felicity?” She turns at the sound of Oliver’s voice, his eyes on a roll of parchment in his hand, “If you have a second, I really need your help on the essay due on Monday, I was confused about a few things.”

Her eyes widen involuntarily.

“Oliver, hi,” she sputters. It’s been a few days since their night outside together, and Felicity honestly doesn’t know how to feel. They’ve carried on their days just like before, but she can’t help but feel that something underneath has shifted, that Oliver feels more comfortable around her now.

“Yeah, sure, I don’t mind helping. What were you having trouble with?”

He waves a quill around in frustration. “I just don’t know if my ideas make sense. Do you think you’d have a chance to look it over and see if it reads okay?” He looks up at her with hopeful eyes.

She tries not to let her face fall too much, because she really did have a lot to do today, but Oliver looks about as stressed out as she feels.

She holds her hand out and lets him give over the parchment.

“I’ll probably get this done by the late evening, is that okay?”

He lights up.

“Thank you so much! That’s fine. I’ll be busy after class anyway,  I have quidditch practice.”

Felicity’s eyebrows go up.

“You’re on the quidditch team?” he gives her a strange look and she wonders if that’s supposed to be common knowledge, and how out of touch she’s been with the sporting life of the school.

Oliver gives her a small smile, and she thinks he might even puff his chest out just a little when he responds.

“Yeah. Actually, I’m the captain.”

Next to her, Dinah hides a laugh with another sip of her coffee.

She ignores her friend, rolls the essay up and puts it in her bag.

“I’ll try and find you once I have it done, okay?”

He leans in to give her one of those small smiles and says, “Great,” before turning on his heel and walking back to his table.

She doesn’t realize she’s following him with her gaze until Dinah clears her throat next to her loudly.

When Felicity turns her head to the side, her friend is looking at her expectantly.

“What was that?” she asks innocently.

Felicity shrugs, gathering her things.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m going to be late.”

“Class doesn’t start for another forty minutes,” Dinah remarks.

“I know,” Felicity stands up from the table, “I have to meet Professor Morrison before class starts to talk about an assignment due in a few weeks.”

Dinah rolls her eyes.

“You make the rest of us look bad.”

Felicity can’t help but ruffle her friend’s hair a bit before she goes.

“I’ll see you later.”

* * *

Oliver hasn’t seen Felicity since breakfast.

It’s Thursday, which means they don’t have class together. He wanted to get a word in during lunch, but she looked busy tutoring a bunch of fourth years.

But when the day goes on and he only catches glimpses of her, his worry grows.

The feeling carries on all evening, nagging him in the back of his mind and urging him to do something about it. That’s why later on in the night, he finds himself wandering to the library.

The library is empty, which is unsurprising given the time and the fact that it’s not exactly the busiest time for students, but something tells him he should look here anyway.

His suspicions are confirmed when he finds Felicity tucked into a study carrel far into the corner, one of the only places left in the room that has light coming from it.

Her head is bent low, and it’s only until Oliver stands in front of her does he realize she’s fallen asleep.

He hesitantly reaches out to her shoulder and shakes it gently.

“Felicity.”

Her head shoots up instantly. Red rimmed eyes meet his own as she instantly reaches up to her own cheek, wiping the corner of her mouth.

“Oliver," she furrows her eyebrows, “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“It’s just past ten,” he says, disapproval colouring his tone, “And after I missed you at dinner, and your friend said she hadn’t seen you all evening, I got a little worried.”

“Oh,” she responds simply, frowning.

He crosses his arms, really looking at her for the first time.

She looks exhausted.

She squints up at him because her glasses sit on the crown of her head, tucked in hair that is tangled up in a half-undone ponytail. Small pink indents trace on her cheek from where she was resting her head. She shuffles her books around, not noticing the way he traces over her features.

“Sorry,” she says distractedly, “I came down here after class to get some work done, do some research and I guess I lost track of time. I haven’t had a chance to look at your essay yet, but I can do that right now if you just give me, like, half an hour.”

She pulls out his assignment from earlier under a stack of books and rubs her eyes, picking up a quill to start going over it.

“Felicity, no,” he reaches over and gently pulls the quill away from her, “That’s not why I came down here.”

She looks up at him again in confusion.

“I’m…” he almost laughs, because how is it _not_ the most obvious thing in the world? “I’m worried about you.”

She frowns.

“Why? I’m fine.”

He looks at her crumpled uniform, her tired eyes, and then around the empty library.

“Right,” he deadpans, “Have you even eaten anything at all today?”

She reaches up to her head and pulls her glasses on her face. “Well I was about to go for dinner, but then I remembered there were a few books I hadn’t looked at yet and I lost track of time and then I just kind of… dozed off.”

She winces.

He tries to look at the stack of books and convoluted notes she has sprawled on the desk.

“What are you working on anyway?”

She wastes no time in rolling her parchment up and slamming books closed.

“Nothing, just a little side project,” she puts an elbow on the table casually to look up at him, effectively covering up the notes, “I had a little mystery I couldn’t quite solve.”

“Uh huh," he says, He doesn’t want to push her too far, but something is obviously going on that makes him worried. He tries a different tactic, “Well, get up, you’re clearly not getting anything done here.”

“Excuse me?” she raises her eyebrows, clearly not liking his newly bossy tone.

“You’re falling asleep, you haven’t eaten, and you look exhausted. Whatever you’re working on can wait until tomorrow,” he nudges her shoulder gently again, “Come on.”

Felicity looks up at him with an unreadable expression on her face before she finally relents. She packs up her books carefully, angling her body so Oliver can’t see _what_ she’s researching that is so secretive.

“What now, boss?” she says dryly.

“Food. I have an in at the kitchens and I can get you some dinner.”

“You have… an in with the house elves who make food and never leave the kitchens?” she says.

“Oh yeah,” he’s lying through his teeth, but he responds with playfully fake arrogance anyway, “I’m very connected like that.”

Finally, _finally,_ he gets a genuine smile out of her, and the sight makes him feel like he can fly.

“Lead the way, then,” she says simply.

He does manage to snag a little bit of leftovers, not without some sweet talking first.

They sit on the floor of the empty Entrance Hall, and as he watches her eat Oliver wonders how much he can pry.

“So,” he finally says in between bites of a bread roll (Felicity has long since admitted she can’t finish all the food he managed to gather), “want to tell me what had you dozing off in the library?”

He looks up at her expectantly.

She frowns and brushes a loose strand of hair back. “Just been a few things going on lately, keeping me busy.”

“Looked like more than just a few things.” He remarks as he brushes a crumb off the corner of his mouth.

She closes her eyes for a second, and Oliver can see the internal debate flit across her face. When she opens them again, she looks younger than she ever has.

“I haven’t been sleeping well lately. And school stuff has been keeping me busy that I can’t catch up during the day.”

He frowns.

“Why can’t you sleep well? Are you stressed?”

“Um… yes?” she looks at him sheepishly, “Not exactly. I mean, that’s not all of it. I’ve been having these dreams.”

“Dreams?”

“I guess the technical term would be nightmares…” she fiddles with a loose thread on her sleeve, “But it sounds so embarrassing to say, right? Can’t sleep cause of my bad dreams.”

She tries to laugh, but it rings hollow to both of them.

“That’s not embarrassing, Felicity, it’s human.”

She stares at the floor pensively.

“Maybe,” she says quietly, “Anyway, that’s why I was at the library. Trying to see if I could make sense of all the dreams I’ve been having. Most Muggles think dreams don’t have much meaning, but my mom was always big on superstition and dream interpretation so… I don’t know. I wanted to look into it. Wizard theories are conflicting, but there’s a lot of literature on meaning that I got carried away with.”

She pauses her ramble to reach into her bag, pulling out several books and a mess of parchment before finding what she needs. A plain white envelope, nondescript and only slightly crumpled from its place before, turns over in between her fingers.

“The person I was seeing in the dreams, the person who was trying to tell me something, seemed familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it until a few days ago, but I had to be sure.”

She talks slowly, almost as if to herself and not to Oliver. He gently calls her name to remind her he’s there.

“Felicity?”

When she does look up at him again, her eyes glisten.

“I told you I never really knew my father, right?”

He nods.

“He left when I was pretty young. I don’t have any strong memories of him. But this person… looked a little like him, I think, just older. But I couldn’t be sure, so I asked my mother to send a picture.”

She holds the envelope up.

“Got this delivered during lunch. Takes a long time to get something from a Muggle in Las Vegas to a magical castle in the Highlands but we make it work.”

“It’s still sealed,” Oliver observes.

Felicity nods.

“Once I open it I’ll get my answer, and I don’t know which outcome freaks me out more," she gives him a sad smile, “What do you think I should do?”

Oliver looks at her tired eyes again, her half-eaten plate from a lack of appetite. He thinks back to the way he found her curled into her desk in the library earlier, exhausted.

“I think not knowing will stress you out more, Felicity. At least with this you’ll start to get some answers,” she looks at him carefully, and nods with a bit of determination he hasn’t seen in her for days.

“You’re right,” she tucks the letter inside her bag again – which is unsurprising, she probably wants to do that alone – and shakes her head out a little, “Let’s talk about something else, please. All our conversations get so heavy.”

Oliver tries to fight a smile and fails.

“Guess we just bring that out in each other,” he sits up straighter. “Okay… How is your mom otherwise? It must be pretty hard talking when she lives so far away.”

She smiles.

“She’s fine. We miss each other, but she’s happy for me out here. The only time it sucks is around the holidays, I think.”

“I can’t imagine,” he says softly. He’d always taken advantage of how frequently he could see his mother even in the school year.

She shrugs.

“It’s not too bad,” she waves her hands around the empty Entrance Hall, “I love it here. There’s no other place in the world I can imagine being.”

He follows her eye line, trying to look at the hall in the eyes of Felicity Smoak, and finds a new appreciation for the castle.

“I mean,” her voice recovers some of its lightness, “There’s certainly some things I could live without.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Like what?”

“It’s always cold here. And I can certainly do without the staircase moving around,” She grumbles and he bursts out laughing.

“What?”

She shrugs defensively.

“It’s a safety hazard, honestly. I’m always scared one day I’ll just,” she raises her hand and lets it slide down, “ _Y’know_.”

Oliver’s still laughing.

“You know they warn you before they move, right?”

“What?”

“They shake a little so students know to move in time,” he says with a grin, feeling oddly smug that he finally knows something before Felicity.

“Huh,” she says thoughtfully, “Good to know. What about you? What’s the one thing about this place you can’t stand?”

He puts a finger on his chin and thinks for a moment.

“I could do without the ghosts,” he answers carefully.

It makes her laugh, properly laugh, for the first time all evening and Oliver finds he can’t look away. Her entire face lights up as her lips spread out widely. Her dimples stretch down her cheeks as she throws her head back. “

The ghosts, Oliver, really?”

He shrugs, feeling oddly defensive himself.

“They’re just not natural. They freak me out. Swooping in and talking to me in the Great Hall while I’m eating and ruin my appetite.”

He shudders.

“Who would have thought,” she tries to suppress another giggle, “That the one thing that freaks Oliver Queen out is ghosts of all things.”

He grins back at her, watching carefully as her laugh turns into a yawn.

“Alright,” he gets up and offers an arm down to help her up. “Let’s get you to sleep. I can’t have you falling asleep all over the place on me like this, Smoak.”

She brushes off her pants.

“Maybe it’s all these late-night heart-to-hearts we keep having,” she remarks.

Oliver tries very hard to not focus on how close they’ve gotten now that they’re standing.

“Maybe we just bring that out in each other.”

They walk in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, ignoring the suddenly thick air around them.

When they reach, the bronze eagle that sits on the door speaks.

“ _Tear off one and scratch its head. What’s once was red is now black instead.”_

Oliver furrows his eyebrows for a moment, before Felicity answers, sounding bored.

“Mmm… a matchstick?”

The door swings open.

Oliver looks at her, impressed.

“I’ve always wondered,” he says, hit with a strange desire to prolong their time together, “What do you Ravenclaws do if you can’t figure a riddle out or you’re too tired or something?”

“You hope someone else will show up and help you,” Felicity raises an eyebrow and lifts a corner of her mouth. “Of course, I wouldn’t know.”

He chuckles.

“Of course.”

She looks through the dark room behind the open door and furrows her eyebrows before turning back.

“Oliver?” she asks, her voice suddenly uncertain.

“Yeah?” he breathes.

She hesitates before reaching her arms up and throwing them around his neck.

“Thanks,” she whispers.

He’s caught off guard at the closeness, but pulls her in closer.

“Always.”

She pulls away and gives a shy smile before walking into her common room.

As he watches her walk away, his chest feeling warm, Oliver realizes the way he cares about his friend Felicity Smoak might be worse than he thought.

* * *

 When Felicity goes into her room, all her roommates are fast asleep. She draws the curtains and lights the tip of her wand with a dim blue-ish glow.

She reaches into her bag and pulls the envelope out, not hesitating before tearing the side and pushing a letter onto her bed.

The note her mother leaves her is short, asking how she is and why she needed the photograph in the first place. She pushes it to the side, knowing she’ll deal with those questions once she has her answers herself.

Breathing heavily, she finds a small square photograph and gasps.

The gray hair she saw in her dreams is different, a light brown in these photographs.

The face has less lines tracing down the cheekbones and across the forehead, but the features are the almost identical.

The blue eyes that look up at her are the same.

The longer she looks, searching for any nuance that could suggest otherwise, Felicity comes to one conclusion.

It is her father coming to her in her dreams, older than she remembers, but undeniably the same.

The question is, what is he trying to tell her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: a trip to Hogsmeade, the village outside school, goes awry 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	5. Hogsmeade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity just needed a break from the castle, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Thursday. This chapter is so short I almost feel bad about posting it, but its necessary. On the surface, it kind of looks filler but it has some important groundwork. Also, next week has /a lot/ going on, so I wanted to keep this lighter.
> 
> Enjoy!

When Felicity is asked about it – at length – later, she shrugs and says, "It just kind of happened."

And, well, it’s true.

One minute, she’s walking with Oliver out of their class, laughing at how he spilled his potion all over their station and ruined her robes (he apologized profusely, and even draped his own over her shoulders so that she could avoid being caught for a uniform violation).

The next, Oliver brings up going to Hogsmeade, the village just outside Hogwarts, for the weekend and asks if she wants to go.

She doesn’t think twice about saying yes, as she desperately needs a break from the castle.

The past few weeks have been something, to say the least.

After weeks of losing sleep because of her strange recurring dreams, once Felicity finally had her answer in the form of one grainy photo, the dreams stopped altogether.

It left Felicity even more confused than before.=

It definitely was her father coming in the strange nightmares, talking to her with a voice that sounded like it was through a sheet of glass. However, he was far older than she had ever remembered or had seen in photographs.

All theories around what that could possibly mean – coming from weeks of extensive research – ended up being for nothing anyway.

Now all she is, is tired, overworked and confused.

Ergo, break from the castle. Hogsmeade with Oliver.

She can’t tell her three roommates any of this, however, as they eagerly shower her with questions.

“So, it’s like a date?” one pesters.

“No,” Felicity laughs, because the very thought is ridiculous.

“Not at all. He just said he needed to pick up a few things for quidditch and I wanted to get some air,” she shrugs, throwing a scarf around her neck.

Another looks disappointed.

“Too bad,” she sinks into Felicity’s bed and looks up thoughtfully, “Although, maybe not. He’s been all weird this year.”

Felicity freezes and frowns.

“What do you mean?” she tries to ask casually.

Her roommate grabs a book and begins flipping through it idly.

“I don’t know. He’s just different. He was, like, social and stuff. Now he barely talks to anyone. He’s all uptight and boring.”

Strangely, Felicity feels indignation rise in her throat. He’s plenty social! He talks to her every day they have class together and most days they don’t, he’d seek her out to spend time with her.

“I didn’t notice,” she says, crossing her arms almost defensively.

Her roommate shrugs, clearly having lost interest in this conversation.

When two other girls walk in, asking what they’re talking about, Felicity has to gather her things with more urgency than she would have liked.

It’s not gone unnoticed by the school that Oliver Queen has steadily grown closer to Felicity. Not that anyone says anything particularly nasty to her, Felicity has noticed an increase of curious questions and her roommates taking a renewed interest in her.

What she hadn’t considered is that the Oliver she’s gotten close to is a far cry from the one others knew him as.

It matters little to her, since she likes the one she knows just fine.

She finds Oliver waiting for her by the entrance hall, an easygoing smile on his face.

She tries to look at him through different eyes, according to what her roommate was saying earlier. He certainly doesn’t look _uptight_ to her now, but relaxed. A gray sweater and jeans replace his usual uniform as he leans on the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets.

“Hey,” he pushes off the wall, his smile growing, “Ready to go?”

She gives a little sigh.

“More than you know,” he tilts his head to the side and she just shakes her head. “Just been one of those mornings. Let’s get out of here.”

It snowed a bit overnight, which makes the walk up to the village a little more than the peaceful, mind clearing stroll that she had in mind, but it’s still fun with Oliver. She tries not to let the conversation from earlier affect the way she sees him, but it’s hard not to.

She’s wrong. Dead wrong, Felicity decides. Oliver has no trouble joking with her and talking about his own morning as they browse through a shop for him to buy new gloves for an upcoming quidditch game.

He groans good naturedly when she says she’s never gone to a game – “Seriously, Felicity? Six years here and not one?” – and insists that next time he plays she has to watch.

Being around him is fun. And easy. The stress from the school year and the mysterious dreams from her father melt away when she’s around him.

She steers him away from the sports equipment and convinces him to help her restore the junk food stock she keeps under her bed. He frowns, lightly chastising her on all her unhealthy choices.

“I’m not saying you can keep fruits there, that would be a bad idea,” he says as they exit _Honeydukes_ , the sweet shop in the village, “I’m just saying you don’t _need_ three boxes of chocolate to survive until the holidays.”

“That’s what you think, Oliver,” she pushes past a small pile of snow at her ankles. “But I _do_ need them. And I could certainly do without that judge-y face.”

She points a finger at his nose, which he scrunches in response.

He opens his mouth to comment – or further argue for healthy choices again, no doubt – but another voice breaks their conversation up.

“Hey, Queen!”

They both turn to see someone Felicity doesn’t immediately recognize walking up to them. She assumes he’s in Oliver’s year and house, although without uniforms it’s hard to tell. Next to her, Oliver tenses.

“Hi, Davis.”

 _Davis_ strides over with a grin that makes Felicity uncomfortable and gives Oliver a clap on the back.

“I feel like I don’t see you anywhere anymore, man.”

Oliver’s hands slide into his pockets and he kicks the ground under him.

“Yeah, I’ve been around. Busy with school stuff.”

The other boy laughs, and Felicity fails to see what exactly is so funny that makes him _guffaw_ on the street like this.

“Right,” he says once he catches his breath, his eyes sliding to Felicity briefly, “So busy. We never see you anymore. I feel like if I want to know what’s going on with you these days I need to read _The Daily Prophet_.”

Oliver takes a small step away from the shop door, putting himself between Felicity and Davis, she notices, and shrugs tightly.

“I think we both know that stuff is hardly accurate, Alex.”

“Right, right,” Alex nods thoughtfully, “They were saying you killed your dad.”

Oliver’s jaw clenches.

“Those were rumors that got struck down pretty quickly,” he says evenly.

“I know,” Alex raises his arms defensively, keeping a frustratingly cool grin on his face, “I know, now they’re moving on to _dark magic,_ ”

He drops his voice to a stage whisper at the two words.

“Pretty hilarious, right? I mean, imagine Hogwarts’ _golden boy_ tainted by the dark like that.”

Felicity doesn’t like where this conversation is headed, and she can see by his face that Oliver is barely holding his patience together. She looks down to the sleeve of his sweater and can see the tip of his wand peeking out, ready just in case.

“That’s when I knew for sure you weren’t involved, you know?” Alex continues, raising a hand to point at Felicity, “I mean, If it was all this dark magic shit, you wouldn’t be hanging out with a _Mudblood_ every chance you get –“

“You watch your fucking mouth,” Oliver says, his voice so low it almost sounds like a growl, his wand sliding out of his sweater and being raised to Alex’s chest.

The other boy looks unbothered, ignoring Oliver as he steps into his space.

“Although, I’m sorry, we don’t know if you’re a Mudblood, do we, Smoak? Your father walked out before he could let you know.”

Felicity is too shocked to respond, her ears growing hot as a few other people on the street turn and look at his words.

Oliver charges forward with his wand raised, poised to aim it at Davis’ throat. Felicity has to force her shock away to grab his arm and drag him back.

“Oliver,” she says quietly, her throat feeling oddly tight as she looks around to see people giving them looks she doesn’t know how to place. “Oliver, come on. It’s not worth it. Walk with me, come on.”

She finds an old empty shop, pushing past the ‘for lease’ sign and forces the door open.

Oliver gives up resisting and follows her without much protest eventually. When they enter the space, he starts pacing.

“I can’t believe he talked to you like that,” he rants, “Who even says that stuff anymore? Nobody’s used that word in twenty years.”

She lets him expel some energy, watching him with crossed arms as he walks back and forth.

“Way out of line,” he continues, “I could deal with what he said about me but when he talked to you –“ 

He breaks off and shakes his head.

“You need to relax, Oliver, I’m fine,” she puts her hand on his shoulder soothingly and urges him to sit down on a dusty bench.

“How are you not angry?” he fumes, looking up at her.

“I am,” she responds calmly, though her insides feel anything _but_ calm, “But I also know that getting mad and doing something stupid like _hexing_ wouldn’t be helpful here.”

“So, you’d have just let him talk to you like that if I wasn’t there?” he snaps.

She drops her hand from his arm and steps back.

“You know I wouldn’t, Oliver,” she says angrily. His eyes drop in shame as he realizes what he’s said. “I just know better than to pick a fight in the middle of the street like that.”

“You’re right,” he says quietly, head still lowered, “I’m sorry.”

She rubs her eyes behind her glasses tiredly.

“It’s fine.”

“Has anyone…” he looks up at her again, looking apprehensive, “Has that happened to you before? Where someone said that?”

She shakes her head.

“No, it’s like you said, no one uses words like that anymore.”

He reaches over and tugs on her arm, forcing her to sit next to him.

They don’t say anything, just press their shoulders tightly together.

“That worries me,” Oliver reveals after a few minutes. “That no one has said things like that since the war ended but now he’s just…”

He breaks off to shake his head irately.

“I don’t like it. You should tell a teacher or something, Felicity.”

She immediately shakes her head and pulls back.

“No way,” she hugs her arms tight around her torso, “That’s just asking for a whole lot of unnecessary attention. I’d rather just drop it.”

He opens his mouth to argue more but ultimately decides against it.

“I think I’ve had enough of this place, how about you?” he nudges her gently, forcing some lightness into his voice.

“Definitely.”

He holds his arm out to help her walk through the snow, and neither of them realize they stay silently wrapped together until they part ways at her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (In case you weren't aware, a Mudblood is a highly derogatory term for Muggle-born wizards)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	6. Curses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver should have known better than to let his guard down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and happy Thursday. Thank you for all your kind words last week, as always.
> 
> Up until this point I've been ahead of the game in terms of chapters written vs posted, but because school and such are keeping me busy I'm behind. Given that, I can't promise next week's chapter will be .... on time. 
> 
> Anyway... enjoy!

For a while, things calm down. Oliver lets his guard down and relaxes a bit, enjoying the school year as it creeps closer into the holidays.

He should have known it  wouldn’t last.

The news comes to him at the same time as it does every other student – early in the morning, when he sleepily eats his breakfast as _The Daily Prophet_ gets delivered.

The headline and image of his father feel like a slap that jars him awake.

The paper says it’s an exclusive, delivered by an anonymous source. Oliver doesn’t even want to think about who went around telling this story.

There are photographs, stolen pieces of the reports from the Ministry’s ongoing investigation and evidence from twenty years ago that spell out one conclusion: a dark wizard _did_ kill Robert Queen.

It’s not new information for Oliver - he always knew the authorities had their suspicions, but was asked to keep quiet on it for “obvious reasons.”

Reasons Oliver fails to see now, because if they were trying to prevent worry, they failed miserably. He notes this as he looks up from the paper to briefly scan the student body around him, watching as everyone’s eyes widen in horror as their eyes catch the headlines.

Whispers spring up instead of the usual chatter that occurs over breakfast, and when eyes start to point to him Oliver returns to the article.  

Continued on page 3 is a moving photograph of a mourning Queen family, Moira and Thea’s eyes downcast as Oliver’s own glare at the photographer, his lips moving silently in a string of curses.

He remembers that day. Just after the funeral, when they tried to return home, exhausted and grieving, reporters assaulted them with questions. It distressed his mother and frightened his sister, which Oliver recalls being incensed by. The photo doesn’t show the way his mother grabbed his arm as he moved forward and tiredly asked him to step back and not cause any trouble.

It’d been a few months, and he’d almost forgotten. The place he was last summer was a bad one, filled with misplaced anger, grief, and frustration he was ready to expel at any moment, like in these captured moments after his father’s funeral.

It had so easily melted away at his time in Hogwarts, and Oliver briefly wonders if he should feel ashamed by it. The anger comes and goes now, only showing face in rare moments, like the incident at Hogsmeade a few days ago.

He stares hard at the newsprint in front of him, until the words blur out. He doesn’t need to read the rest of the article to know that, thanks to this “exclusive”, the Wizarding community will ask a dozen more questions, most of which will attack his father’s character in a way he doesn’t deserve in death.

Eventually, when he can hear the papers rustling around him as students lose interest and move on to topics that concern themselves instead of him, he looks up again and returns to his breakfast. The toast he was eating feels dry and hard to swallow now so he tosses it back in his plate, pushing off the bench.

There’s still time before class, so Oliver decides walking along the bridge to clear his head might do him some good. He feels wound up and cagey as eyes and new whispers follow him out the Great Hall and in the hallways outside of it.

He finds Tommy walking for breakfast on his way out, looking unsure of himself.

Oliver doesn’t bother with a greeting.

“So, I guess you heard,” he wagers from the look on his friend’s face.

Tommy nods.

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

Oliver tries not to laugh at the question.

“Fine. Just fine.”

“Do you really think… what they’re saying, is it true?” Tommy’s eyes knit together, and he looks years younger.

“Yeah, looks like it,” Oliver answers simply.

“But that’s… what would your dad be doing getting mixed up with dark magic?” his friend asks.

Oliver’s eyes slide shut. The question has crossed his mind more than once, and he tries to push it away each time. Whatever the answer, he’s certain he wouldn’t like to know, and it hardly matters to him now. His father is already gone, anything that would suggest he was a criminal and taint his memory like that is unthinkable to Oliver.

“I don’t know, Tommy,” he answers tiredly, “It’s not my job to know. And it doesn’t matter to me. He’s still gone.”

Tommy gestures to the bench that overlooks the landscape. Oliver sits down.

“We never really got to talk about it,” Tommy says, looking at his hands, “I was gone all summer, traveling, and I couldn’t be back until right before school started. I missed the funeral. I missed all the shit that happened after. I wasn’t really there for you.”

“Tommy,” Oliver rubs his eyes, not wanting to hear any of it. With a friendship as long as theirs, apologies were unnecessary.

“No, let me, Oliver,” he continues, “I never got a chance to ask you if you’re okay with everything that’s been going on. And what happened just now, that can’t be easy, can it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Oliver admits, “But really, it’s okay.”

“It’s not that I didn’t _want to_ ,” Tommy presses on, and Oliver isn’t sure his friend heard him, “But you seemed like you were getting better. You were happy. Well, happy when you were with –“

Tommy breaks off, and looks at Oliver with an expression he can’t quite place.

“With…?”

Tommy gives a sheepish smile.

“With Felicity,” he says reluctantly.

Oliver pauses, unsure of how to react. His first instinct is to deny, but it’s quickly replaced by the realization that Tommy might be right. Just mentioning her name makes Oliver want to smile, strangely enough. He doesn’t know what to make of that reaction but he knows it surely can’t be good.

As his confusion no doubt crosses over his face, Tommy’s guilty expression of before wipes off, a small smirk falling in its place.

“I never have gotten a chance to ask about _that,_ either,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Ask about what?” Oliver asks gruffly, knowing he’s just stalling the inevitable.

“ _Felicity,_ ” Tommy stretches her name out suggestively in a way that makes Oliver shift uncomfortably in his seat, “What is going on there?”

“Nothing.” Oliver crosses his arms. “We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Tommy repeats flatly. “Right, is that what they call it now?”

Oliver rolls his eyes.

“Shove it. I’m telling the truth.”

“Sure you are,” Tommy nods sarcastically, “That’s why everyone’s always talking about you spending your free time all curled up and whispering with your other _friends._ ”

Oliver tries hard to ignore the _curled up_ comment, (because really, what the hell does that mean?) and instead tries to deflect. He forces a smile that feels as weak as it probably is.

“Since when are you such a gossip, Merlyn?”

“Since it involves my best friend who won’t tell me a thing,” Tommy leans forward, eyes twinkling.

Oliver shoves him away and get up.

“Like I said, there’s nothing to tell. I’m going to class.”

“You can run but you can’t hide, buddy!” his friend calls out after him. Oliver shakes his head and laughs, feeling some of the tension from earlier ebb away as he walks to class.

* * *

The little break from reality with his friend ends up being just that – a break. Because when classes start, the fearful, pitying looks of the students around him return. In Charms class, nobody even wants to sit next to him, which is ridiculous, if not just a touch hurtful. But he’s a big boy, he can handle it.

In Potions, Felicity doesn’t breathe a word of it, only her brief worried glances give away the fact that she knows. But she tries her best to keep their conversation light and distract him from the whispers behind his back.

He appreciates it.

He doesn’t quite realize how distracted he is until later in the afternoon, when he tries to lead quidditch practice with half his team giving him strange looks. He almost slips off his broom trying to set up a play when his mind wanders to his father again while up in the air.

He flies down sheepishly, and tells the team they can cut practice short today, that there’s still plenty of time before their game against Hufflepuff.

Likely after seeing the exhaustion on his face, everyone goes to change out of their gear with no comments, and Oliver goes to his room by seven.

Things really take a turn for the worse the very next day, however.

Oliver’s eating breakfast with Felicity, going over key points for an upcoming Potions test. He leans over her arm to look at her carefully crafted notes, his cheek brushing against her hair.

Thea comes rushing over. Her hair looks rumpled and the makeup she lines her eyes with runs in black clouds on her skin.

Oliver immediately straightens, pulling his arm away from Felicity. The look on his sister’s face makes him assume the worst. When she speaks, he finds he’s right.

“Ollie,” her voice cracks and her hands shake as they fall to her mouth, “It’s Mom, we have to go.”

* * *

The next hour or so passes in something of a haze for Oliver.

He remembers taking Thea’s hand, letting her lead him to the Headmaster’s office.

Waller waits by the fireplace, and explains that his mother is in the hospital, and they need to go _now._

It must be serious, Oliver thinks detachedly as they step into the green fire of the Floo network, which transports them into the lobby of St. Mungo’s Hospital. It must be serious, he thinks absently, if they’re being pulled from school. He feels oddly numb as the gravity of the situation floats around him, but never quite hitting him.

It might be their name, or the fact that Oliver and Thea are very much two kids standing in the middle of the space looking utterly lost, but they’re quickly swept up to the fourth floor and pushed down on a set of uncomfortable plastic chairs.

From there, they’re forced to wait, trying to catch the eyes of any healers or nurses that walk by, but Oliver can tell they’re being pointedly ignored.

A frazzled looking Healer comes out to find them after thirty minutes of waiting, and Oliver’s feeling murderous. The feeling must translate into his gaze, because the Healer almost shrinks back when he approaches the Queen siblings.

“What the hell is going on,” Oliver thunders as he stands up. “Where’s my mother? What happened? We were pulled from school and nobody will tell us a damn thing and I need answers _right_ now.”

The Healer, whose tag reads Finnegan, raises his arms almost defensively.

“Mrs. Queen is doing well. We had a good team of healers working on her and she’s in a much more stable condition now, she’s resting. You can see her but I suggest you let her rest.”

He speaks almost calmly, and Oliver almost feels bad for blowing up until he remembers nobody has told them what the _fuck_ happened to her that landed her in the hospital at all.

“What. Happened,” he grits out.

The healer opens and closes his mouth almost awkwardly.

“All I can disclose is that she was found in her home with apparent jinx symptoms. I think it’d be better if she explained the details of it. Someone from the Ministry will be over soon to ask her some questions.”

He walks off without another word, and Oliver feels the ire inside of him build. He clenches his fist, ready to march off to find that healer and give him a piece of his mind about delivering information, until a small sound breaks him out of his thoughts.

“Ollie?”

It’s Thea. She’s still seated on the chair, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes.

It’s moments like this that Oliver is reminded how much of a kid Thea still is. When the personality that seems larger than life is stripped away, it’s replaced with fear and confusion, her innocence being chipped at far sooner than Oliver would have ever liked.

He steps forward instantly and wraps an arm around her shoulders.

“It’s okay, Speedy,” he whispers into her hair. Her skinny, gangly arms wrap around his waist, “You heard him, Mom’s fine. She’s okay. We can go see her right now, if you want.”

He feels her nod against him. When she gets up, her head is down and he hears just one sniffle before she looks up, her eyes clear and hard. Oliver sees so much of their mother in that moment it almost makes him pause.

“Let’s go,” she says simply.

It’s ridiculous and impossible and so unbelievably Moira Queen-esque that when they enter their room, they find their mother looking perfectly put together. She’s half sitting up on the bed, blonde hair in careful waves and her eyes closed.

Oliver can tell she isn’t sleeping by the way she twitches when he closes the door behind him.

He hovers by the entrance, but Thea walks straight to the bed their mother lies in.

“Mom?” Her voice cracks as she reaches out for Moira’s hand. Oliver finds himself watching, holding his breath as their mother opens her eyes and squeezes Thea’s hand.

“Thea,” Moira responds. Her voice is raspy as she sits up on the bed, “Don’t cry, baby. I’m okay. I’m right here.”

Moira strokes the young girl’s hair until she eventually falls to the bed, her body shaking in sobs.

“I was so scared, Mom,” she gasps out, “They wouldn’t tell us what was going on.”

“Shh,” their mother brings her in closer, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her head turns to Oliver, and her eyes are almost accusatory as she looks at him. The gaze sets Oliver’s teeth on edge for a reason he can’t name.

She gestures for him to come forward, and it makes him realize that he’s been glued to the spot against the wall as Thea broke down.

Hesitantly, he walks forward and sits down on the other side of the hospital bed.

Moira reaches out with her other hand and Oliver takes it.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Mom,” he says quietly.

Thea lifts her head from her mother’s arm and wipes her eyes.

“What happened, anyway? They wouldn’t tell us why you got hurt.”

Moira pauses, and gives Oliver that knowing look again.

“Thea…” she says hesitantly, “There’s something we haven’t been telling you.”

Thea’s eyes flicker to Oliver.

“ _We?”_

Their mother shifts again.

“Yes.”

Thea leans away from the bed, crossing her arms around her stomach.

“Okay…”

“Ever since your father died… I had been receiving strange letters to our home. Threats, specifically, to our family. Untraceable in every way. I told Oliver of them so that he could keep watch over the two of you at Hogwarts,” Thea’s eyebrows shoot up at her older brother, “But after _The Daily Prophet_ article broke about dark magic in your father’s death…”

She stops suddenly, rubbing her arm back and forth.

“What?” Oliver finally says.

Moira looks at him with regret in her eyes.

“I should have been more careful,” she says quietly, “I was careless, opening all of the mail over breakfast without another thought. But it had been a week since the last letter… I had gotten comfortable. That was my mistake.”

“Mom?” Thea asks breathlessly.

Moira looks off now, Oliver isn’t sure if she’s with them or in their dining room back at home, reliving the moment.

“It was unmarked, but I thought I could open it and hand it over to the investigators on my way to work. When I did, there were no words on the page. It was blank. I should have known,” she shakes her head, “There must have been a jinx on the page, or the envelope, that responded to my touch. The next thing I felt was pain, white hot pain, before I was flying across the dining room.”

Oliver tries hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I don’t know how I was found. I must have gotten lucky. But I was, and the important thing is now, I’m okay,” Moira finally concludes, reaching out to take Thea’s hand once more, but the young girl pulling back before she can.

“When were you guys going to tell me?” Thea asks.

“Thea?” their mother furrows her eyebrows.

“The two of you knew about this… dangerous thing hanging over all of our heads… and you just weren’t going to tell me? If Mom didn’t get hurt would I have ever found out?”

Oliver’s eyes slide shut as he rubs his temple. This is exactly what he was afraid of.

“Darling, it was more complicated than that. I didn’t want to burden you after everything you’ve been through,” Moira tries to reach forward once again, but it’s far too late. Oliver watches as his sister shuts down.

A Healer Oliver doesn’t recognize interrupts their conversation, entering the room quietly.

He looks at Oliver, “Mr. Queen? Mind if we have a few words outside?”

Oliver looks back at his mother and sister. Thea stares off into the window stubbornly and Moira leans back in her bed, resigned.

There’s little he can do in here.

“Sure,” he says, rising from his chair, and following the Healer out the door.

The healer, whose tag reads Thomas, holds a thick roll of parchment in his hand.

“I’m speaking to you because I was told you’re of age, is that correct?” he asks.

Oliver nods.

“Yes, I turned seventeen earlier this year.”

“Perfect. I just had to clarify before telling you this.”

He unfurls and hands the parchment to Oliver, who skims through the legal jargon quietly.

“I don’t understand,” Oliver mutters.

“You’ll need to sign this in order to clear the hospital of any liability should anything happen to Mrs. Queen,” the healer explains, and the words send Oliver’s mind into a frenzy.

“But I thought she was better now,” he says, the parchment in his hand starting to tremble.

Dr. Thomas takes a deep breath, looking oddly caught.

“She is,” he says carefully, “But the jinx that letter held was a special brand of dark magic we haven’t encountered in years. That means we’ll have to keep her for a few extra days to observe, just in case any lingering side effects come unexpectedly.”

Oliver stares at his shoes, feeling oddly numb.

“Son,” the healer places a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, but it only ratchets up his frustration, “You should consider yourself very lucky. We came very close to losing her, and that’s why we want to make sure nothing else happens.”

“Fine,” Oliver says hoarsely, “I’ll sign the stupid thing.”

When he does scratch his name across the page, he feels like a part of himself goes with it, but he pushes that feeling down.

Instead, he returns to his mother’s room to see mother and daughter still at odds, looking at opposite sides of the room in silence.

He takes his seat from before and sighs.

This was going to be a long day.        

* * *

By the time they return to the castle, it’s past nine.

When Oliver tries to ask Thea if she wants dinner, all she does is curtly shake her head.

They walk in silence back to the Slytherin common room. After today, there’s no way he’d let her walk back alone.

By the time they reach the door, she’s about to enter without another word but Oliver puts a hand on her shoulder gently.

“Thea,” he says quietly. His voice sounds as defeated as he feels. He can’t bring himself to pretend otherwise anymore – he’s _tired._

“Ollie, listen, I’m not in the mood –“

“Just let me say this,” he urges.

Her arms stay crossed, but she listens.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. There’s not map for this. No instructions. I’m lost most of the time, half drowned in worry over you and hoping I’m always doing the right thing. Being a good son, a good friend, a good brother. I’m trying. And sometimes, I mess up. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to mom. But _Thea,_ I’m just as angry and scared as you might feel. And right now, we just have each other. Don’t shut me out over this. Please.”

She looks at him for a long time, her glassy eyes looking conflicted as he speaks. She takes a deep shaky breath and nods.

“It’s been a long day,” she croaks, putting her hand over his own on her shoulder, “We can talk properly tomorrow.”

He lets out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding in and nods, leaning in to give her a quick one-armed hug.

He trudges to the Gryffindor common room slowly, the events of the day seeping into his bones with every step. He wants nothing more than to sleep, and put this awful nightmare behind him. He knows tomorrow will bring its own set of issues, but doesn’t quite have the strength to worry about that right now.

He expects to see the hallways mostly empty, given that it’s a weeknight and everyone generally turns in early. What he doesn’t expect is the blonde head tipped over in a book, waiting by the Gryffindor common room’s entrance.

“Felicity?”

Her head shoots up as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Without hesitation, she slams her book shut and jumps to her feet.

“Oliver, hey,” she twists her fingers together.

“What are you doing here… sitting on the floor?” he asks. He has a feeling he knows the answer, but the idea makes him feel warm in a way he doesn’t want to place just yet.

“I was – well, when you and Thea ran off at breakfast today, and didn’t come back at all – I got worried. And I wanted to wait up and make sure you were okay.”

She says it simply, pursing her pink lips together in a half smile as though it’s the most logical course of action she could have taken.

The corner of his lips twitch without his permission.

“You waited for me?” he repeats, hating the way his voice rises an octave.

She blushes, shoving a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well… yeah. I heard your mother was in the hospital and I wanted to make sure everything was fine. Is she okay now?”

Immediately, his climbing mood drops.

“So does that mean…” he sighs, feeling strangely irritated, “Everyone knows, then?”

Felicity’s eyes widen.

“No! Well, not yet. They’ll probably find out tomorrow,” she says with a wince, “I just happened to overhear.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Well, more like I hung out outside the Headmaster’s office and heard her tell your professors why you wouldn’t be in class today," she admits awkwardly, her cheeks growing redder as she speaks.

Despite himself, he laughs.

Like, harder than is probably appropriate.

He laughs until he doubles over, resting his hands on his knees in the middle of the hall outside Gryffindor tower.

He laughs until tears spring in his eyes, and then the laughter stops altogether when he realizes this is the first time he’s cried all day. When the water starts streaming down his cheeks, his laughter turns to choked gasps.

Felicity reaches out immediately when she notices, placing her hands on his arms.

“Oliver?” she asks, concern colouring her voice.

He looks down at her blurry form and feels as small as dust.

“I could have lost her.” He finally says.

He wipes at his face, but somehow the tears kept coming.

“That’s what they told me, you know,” he continues. “My mother could have died today. My sister and I would have been orphans. Now, my mother is alive and pretending everything is fine and Thea won’t talk to me. And I have to keep it together like everything _doesn’t_ feel like it’ll fall to shit at any moment when it will. It will and I don’t know – I don’t know how to handle it alone. I’m not – I’m not equipped for all of this – Felicity, I –”  

He breaks off again, this time a louder and much more embarrassing sob escapes and he has to cover his mouth to try and keep this in.

Felicity herself stays silent as he blows up, rubbing her arms quietly and letting him expel all the emotions that built up over the day – no, over the past few months.

“Nobody should expect you to be equipped for this, Oliver,” she finally says soothingly, one hand falling to his cheek to make him look at her. “You’re seventeen, barely of age. You have a dozen other things going on right now. The kind of things you have to deal with are things that are just other people’s worst nightmares.”

He leans into her touch, steadying out his breathing so it comes out less ragged.

“But if anyone can handle all of this, it’s you,” she says firmly, “I know you’ll be able to come out the other end with your family together, because you are one of the strongest people that I know.”

He manages a half smile, brushing his own finger down her cheek.

“I just take my lead from people around me.” He responds, his voice dropping as he does in hopes that she’ll understand what he means.

She looks up at him from her lashes, her mouth opening in the smallest ‘O’ shape when she realizes what he means.

Instead of responding, she leans up to throw her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest.

When she leans back, her eyes shine in the light.

“By the way,” she whispers, “You were wrong, you know. You’re not alone.”

Her lips curve into a shy smile, and Oliver feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

He wants to kiss her, he realizes with a startling amount of clarity as he looks down at her. He wants like he’s never wanted before.

He doesn’t know where the intrusive thought came from, but somewhere between her arms wrapped around him and the way she looks up at him now with unwavering belief makes him realize he’s fallen, hard and fast.

Or maybe it came far sooner than tonight, somewhere between their study sessions and classes, or all the other times she just seems to be _there_ when he needs her.

But right now she’s _so close_ , he can count the dots that spread on her nose and see the light scratches on her glasses. She’s close enough for him to just reach out, gently urge her forward and get what he wants, like he’s never been denied before.

But his hands still shake. His insides still feel like liquid concrete. He’s still exhausted and stressed from the day.

It’s not the right time by any stretch. It would hardly be fair to her, or himself, if he acted on his impulsive, emotionally-fuelled thoughts.

“Thank you for waiting,” he says simply, before he can say anything he might regret, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

She nods, unaffected by the epiphany that turns his world on its axis. She squeezes his arm one last time – making his heart clench in a frustrating way –and walks quietly to her own room.

When Oliver reaches his bed, he collapses with little care for a normal nighttime routine.

His mind swirling with a mix of thoughts and voices from the day, he can only reach one conclusion:

None of this will end well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	7. Flying High

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between long days, and Quidditch, and bold decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. I’m sorry this is one week late, hopefully this chapter ends up being worth the wait. This was going to be two shorter chapters but I wasn’t satisfied with how it would have flowed otherwise. Since Arrow is (finally!!) coming back next Thursday I’m moving my updates to Friday nights. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Felicity loves the Gryffindor common room.

It might make her a traitor to her own house, but she doesn’t care.

The Ravenclaw common room has its own perks: it’s airy, and bright, and a makes a great place to study. The armchairs by the windows are always a great place to read, and she feels comfortable.

But there’s just _something_ about the Gryffindor room.

It feels warmer, cozier. While members of her own house tend to be quiet and never let conversation rise above a polite murmur, everyone in Gryffindor is boisterous, energetic. They’re loud without being overly obnoxious, and everyone seems to be friendly with each other.

It’s a kind of camaraderie Felicity isn’t accustomed to, but she absolutely loves it.

Her attitude has nothing to do with Oliver, of course, who is currently leaning his chin down on her shoulder as they attempt to cram for a Potions test while squished together on a brown couch.

Okay, maybe it does just a little.

But that’s only because the way he’s pressed up against her is a little distracting.

She doesn’t comment on it – because, that would be more than mortifying – but instead lets his breath tickle her neck as he asks her questions.

It’s started raining after they got there, which made the common room fill with more and more people as their time went on, and he has to keep her close to make sure he can hear anything at all.

All in all, it’s keeping her _slightly_ distracted, but she can live with it. Partially because she can tell his mind isn’t at all focused on the test tomorrow.

The first giveaway being the way he flinched when a group of third years started giggling loudly.

The second was when someone in his own year loudly announced, “ _that’s my sister!”_ while holding up a letter and photograph. Oliver’s eyes stayed trained on that scene on the other side of the common room for just a second too long, and Felicity takes it as a sign to put her (meticulously designed, if she must say) notes down.

“Still haven’t talked to Thea?” she asks. She assumes that this isn’t something they need to dance around.

Oliver doesn’t bother hiding it either, as he responds.

“Nope. She said she was fine, and that she just needs some time, but I don’t know, Felicity… it’s been a week and she’s avoiding me.”

She feels the weight of his head lift off her shoulder as he leans back into the couch and sighs.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to push it, but I hate being on bad terms with her.”

Felicity doesn’t say anything, but just lets the hand that’s on his knee rubs soothing circles up and down.

She tries switching gears.

“How’s your mom?”

Oliver scoffs.

“The same. She got released from the hospital pretty quick, and now she’s just pretending like nothing happened,” he rolls his eyes and Felicity winces. Maybe not the best subject change, then.

“Just talk to her,” she leans against the chair. The common room is so crowded that their conversation gets drowned out easily. “You can’t focus on anything else, I can see it. Just talk to her once and clear everything up.”

Oliver looks at her for a long time, his eyes searching between hers for a long time.

He looks almost stricken, and when he opens his mouth Felicity worries she’s overstepped.

Instead, the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbles.

She can’t help but laugh.

“Get used to it, buddy.”

He nudges her shoulder gently and turns his attention back to their study notes.

* * *

Oliver eventually seeks Thea out a few days after Felicity’s suggestion.

He’s not procrastinating, he just waits for Friday night. After Quidditch practice. And dinner.

He’s not procrastinating.

He manages to find Tommy on his way out of the Slytherin common room after dinner and asks him to get Thea for him.

His friend gives a wince.

“I can try,” Tommy says hesitantly, “But I can’t promise she’ll come out.”

“Did she say anything to you? Is she still mad at me?”

“No, and no,” Tommy shrugs, “It’s more of a ‘angry at the whole world’ thing she has going on. She won’t even hang out with her friends.”

Oliver purses his lips.

“Just call her out here.”

When his sister does come out, her arms are crossed tight around her middle. Her brown hair hangs limp on her face. The black makeup she lines her eyes with is gone.

Instantly, Oliver feels guilty for letting this go on for longer than a day.

“What?” Her voice is flat.

“Hey, Speedy.”

“What is it, Ollie? I have work to do.”

“It’s Friday night.”

She answers with a glare.

“I wanted to talk to you since we left things off a little weird since Mom was in the hospital.”

“I told you,” Thea says in that same flat voice, “It’s fine. I just need some time. If that’s all you came to say….”

She pushes off the wall and moves towards the door.

Oliver immediately moves forward to try and block her way.

“It’s been weeks, Thea. I just want to know where we are.”

She throws her hands in the air helplessly.

“What do you want me to say, Ollie?”

“Don’t say anything, just let me say this. In here? All we have is each other. It’s you and me. Please don’t shut me out.”

“Okay,” she says quietly.

Oliver’s shoulders sag, and he lets out a breath that feels like it weighed twenty pounds.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Just, promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Next time something like this happens,” Thea says, her eyes piercing, “And I know it will, don’t shut me out, okay?”

Oliver doesn’t hesitate.

“I promise.”

* * *

Oliver wanders down to breakfast a little later than he would Saturday morning.

In the entrance hall, he catches Felicity on her way from outside.

And she has… certainly seen better days.

It’s been raining all night and all morning, and it shows on her face. Her hair is soaked and sticking to her face, the ends starting to curl as she’s exposed to warm air. She’s out of uniform, in a simple sweater and jeans, but both are damp.

He can tell she’s cold by the way her teeth chatter as she takes a step forward.

“Hey,” he says cautiously, “What’s going on with you this morning?”

She smiles sheepishly.

“Not much. I was just out in the greenhouses helping out and I got caught in the rain on my way back inside.”

“You were just spending your Saturday morning helping out?” he asks teasingly, “God, Felicity, you are so _good_ it just makes the rest of us look bad.”

She gives a smile that almost looks guilty, but Oliver chalks it up to the cold twisting her features oddly.

“Yeah well,” she wrings her hair out, “Some good it did me, now I’m soaked.”

“It’s no big deal, nothing a simple warming charm won’t fix, just do it now before you get sick,” Oliver suggests.

She flashes the strange look again.

“Totally. Um… do you think you can do it for me? I don’t have my wand on me.”

Oliver reaches into his pocket.

“Yeah sure I can – wait,” he pauses, looking over her again, “You went out there to help and you didn’t take your wand?”

He furrows his eyebrows. It’s unusual for any wizard to go without their wand, but especially one who would probably need it helping a teacher, unless –

Oh.

Comprehension dawns over Oliver.

“Oh my god, Felicity,” he says, fighting another grin, “Were you in _detention?”_

She flashes him another guilty look.

“Maybe,” she grumbles, “Would you please just do the warming charm, I’m freezing here.”

“Right, sorry,” Oliver fights a few more chuckles as he pulls his wand out.

Once she’s dry (and looking a bit happier), Oliver can’t help but press on again.

“So what did you even _do?”_ he follows her into the Great Hall, “Stay in the library past hours? Outsmart a professor? Study too hard?”

“Oliver,” she says warningly.

“I’m just curious,” he holds up his hands with a grin, “As to what Felicity Smoak, apple of every teacher’s eye, has to do to get in detention. Really, I always thought I was more trouble out of the two of us.”

She takes a seat at the Ravenclaw table and grabs a plate with more force than necessary.

“If you must know,” she says, staring pointedly at the table, “I got into a fight.”

Oliver’s eyebrows fly up.

He wasn’t really planning to sit down, but he almost falls onto the bench next to her.

“I’m sorry, you did _what?_ ” he has to stop himself from shouting.

Felicity huffs and grabs an orange off the tray.

“I really don’t want to get into it,” she almost whines.

“I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

“Really, I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it already,” Felicity tucks a stray hair behind her ear, “But it doesn’t matter. Point is, it was stupid and I got in trouble, so it won’t be happening again.”

She tries to push it away, but her words only invite more questions.

“Wait, why would I have heard about it?” Oliver leans forward curiously, “How big was this fight? Did you put someone in the hospital?”

He’s only half-joking at this point.

Felicity manages a laugh as she peels the skin off her fruit.

“No, god no,” she says, still looking anywhere _but_ Oliver’s face, “It happened after my Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Someone made a comment I didn’t appreciate.”

“Comment about what?”

Her eyes flash to his with that same expression from before.

“You don’t want to know,” she says darkly.

“Oh trust me, I really, really do.”

“You,” she finally relents. Oliver’s head snaps up, but she continues like he didn’t react, “I mean, kind of. I really didn’t mean to say anything, but we were learning about cursed objects and that _prick_ Bruce Creevey kept making these comments about your mom, and you, and what’s been going on... And I ignored it during class, I swear, but when I was trying to leave and go for lunch, I heard him going on outside and I just—”

She throws a hand in the air.

Oliver clears his throat, which feels oddly tight at her words.

“You what? You hexed him or something?”

“Not exactly,” she winces, “I punched him.”

Well.

If Oliver hadn’t sat down earlier, he would have definitely needed to now.

“I mean,” she continues with a wave of her hand, “Tried to punch him is more accurate. Turns out I’m not exactly good at that. Hexing him would have been better, but that might have landed me more than two weekends of detention.”

“I’m sorry I…” Oliver has to force his mouth from hanging open, “You punched him? For me?”

The awe in his voice leaks dangerously into admiration, and Felicity takes notice. Her cheeks turn red and she ducks her head down.

“Don’t make it sound like that,” she mumbles, “It was an impulsive mistake.”

“I’ll say,” Oliver almost snorts uncharacteristically, “Weren’t you _just_ lecturing me on picking fights a few weeks ago?”

“That was completely different,” Felicity responds stubbornly.

“Oh, is it?”

“Absolutely,” she shrugs, “I can handle detention, but you wouldn’t even last fifteen minutes.”

Oliver gives an indignant huff.

“I’ve had detention a few times before, I could have handled it. But stop trying to change the subject. What _exactly_ did he say that made you so angry?”

Felicity turns the colour of his Gryffindor sweater.

“Really, Oliver, I just want to forget it even happened.”

Oliver notices that she’s starting to look upset, so he leans back and decides to change the subject.

“So, I have a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff tomorrow,” he says conversationally, plucking an apple from the table and taking a loud crunch, “First one of the season.”

“Okay, so?” Felicity asks, though her wary expression gives away that she knows what he’s about to ask next.

“I distinctly remember you promised that next time I had a match you would come to watch,” he says after he finishes chewing.

“Actually,” she says dryly, “I think it was more like you _told_ me I _had_ to come, and I don’t have to do anything.”

“Okay fine, you don’t have to. But I would like you to come watch. Better?”

She nods.

“Much better. I’d be happy to, Oliver.”

“Great,” he grins widely, and when she matches it, Oliver feels his heart swell, “I’ll be the guy flying around in red.”

* * *

The morning of his Quidditch match, Oliver makes a deal with himself staring at the mirror in the dressing room.

If they win today, he’s going to walk straight up to Felicity Smoak and ask her out.

It’s risky.

She could say no, and he could lose a friend that’s become very important to him.

But she could say yes.

And he could blame it on the pre-game adrenaline kicking in, but Oliver’s feeling his chances today. He feels _good._

It’s why he walks in the dressing room with more of a spring in his step than normal. It’s why his speech before the game starts is delivered with a little more exuberance than the others, and has Gryffindor’s star seeker Barry Allen raising his eyebrows questioningly. Oliver ignores it, mostly because Barry is a little shit, but also because he’s too far in his element to care.

Excitement in the crowd is high when they walk onto the pitch, given that it’s the first game of the year and all the students are itching for an excuse to get away from their books. Oliver looks to the stands and wonders if he’d be able to make out the familiar blonde head that’s been on his mind all morning, but it’s useless. Maybe when he’s up in the air he’ll give it another look.

He barely notices as he shakes the Hufflepuff’s captain’s hand, and it isn’t long before the balls are released and they’re all in the air.

On the stands, Felicity sits uncertainly with a book in her lap. She’s not exactly a sports person, and since she didn’t know what to expect she figured some backup entertainment would do her good.                                                                            

But maybe she wouldn’t tell Oliver that.

It’s really crowded on the Ravenclaw stands, even if their house isn’t playing, which she finds curious. She had kind of hoped that she’d be left alone but instead she’s squeezed tight on the bench between some boisterous boys from her year, who insist on commenting on _every_ play.

Eventually, one of them notice the way she runs her hands up and down the leather spine of her book.

“Did you think you were coming to a picnic, Smoak?” one of them comments, his Scottish accent is thick.

She ignores it.

“Shouldn’t you be studying right now for your fancy seventh year course?” he presses on, “I thought you were too good for sports. Or that’s what you told me in fourth year.”

Felicity tunes him out, and instead focuses on Oliver, who happens to fly past the Ravenclaw stands. She perks up just a bit reflexively, but remembers that he’s likely too focused on his game to notice her.

Which is fine.

Though she prides herself on her knowledge and wit, Felicity is quite ashamed to admit that she doesn’t know a single thing about Quidditch. Her flying lessons in first year went so abysmally that she wanted nothing to do with anything that involved broomsticks or being above the ground ever again.

However, for the sake of Oliver, she did enough research to know what would unfold today.

As she understood it, Oliver’s role on the team is the Chaser, which means she gets to watch as he spends the majority of the game furiously zooming around the pitch and scoring goals.

It’s impressive, and certainly captivating enough that she doesn’t need the book in her lap. He’s a natural flyer and leader, with how he goes from one end to the other, shouting plays and directions at his teammates.

In particular, he has a special connection with Barry Allen. It’s unsurprising, given the outcome of the game would rely on Barry catching the golden snitch, but the two of them seemed to have worked out a form of silent communication.

Hufflepuff barely notices the way Oliver scratches his nose and looks pointedly to a corner of the pitch, but Felicity does. She sees the glint of gold at the same time Barry does, and when the young seeker takes a sharp turn downwards, she finds herself unable to hold back her eager cheering along with her classmates.

She’s on her feet with everyone else when Barry holds the golden snitch up proudly, signaling the end of the game. Oliver flies down and lands next to him, clapping him on the back with a grin that goes ear to ear.

It’s the most carefree he’s been all year, and the sight warms Felicity’s heart. If anyone deserved to feel like that, it’s him.

When the two teams shake hands, Oliver’s head starts looking to the stands and a silly part of Felicity’s heart flutters, wondering if he’s looking for her. Immediately, she pushes the thought down, because it’s far too ridiculous.

Students around them start to clear the stands, and on her way down Alex Davis catches her. She freezes.

“Enjoy the game, Felicity Smoak?”

The leery grin and the way he says her full name makes Felicity’s skin crawl, but she tries not to give it away. She nods, hoping that if she doesn’t give him words he can’t continue a conversation on her.

“Didn’t think you were big on Quidditch, I have to say,” he continues, following her down the stairs.

Felicity keeps her head down, the book she didn’t need clutched tight against her chest.

So, here’s the thing.

She knows that Davis is a bully, plain and simply put.

And she’s no suffer-in-silence type, despite what Oliver might have believed in Hogsmeade.

What Oliver doesn’t know is that day wasn’t exactly her first foray with bullies like him.

She dealt with a fair share of it in her second year, when a group of students two years her senior felt threatened by a younger girl who could charm circles around them.

What Oliver doesn’t know is that when she tried to approach a teacher about it, she was told to ignore her harassers and surely, they would get bored and move on.

They didn’t.

All it taught Felicity was that the administration didn’t care, and that when she was on the other side of the world, completely alone and away from the only family she knew, the only person who would look out for her was herself.

Of course, Oliver doesn’t know that because his last name has ensured any minor indignation he might express would go answered.

That’s why, when Davis follows her right to the Ravenclaw common room, relentless in his biting comments despite how hard she ignores him, Felicity decides she won’t tell Oliver about this little incident.

Instead, she goes straight to bed, hoping that tomorrow will bring her a little more patience.

* * *

The day after his Quidditch match, though he’s been off his broom for hours, Oliver is still flying high.

It’s been so long since a win like that, it’s easy for him to get drunk on the good feeling he gets.

Though he intended to find Felicity right after the game, he got swept up in celebration with his team and then some other students in the Gryffindor common room. It wasn’t a party, per se, but it was fun to let loose a little.

Still, it was curious to not see Felicity the rest of the night, so when he went looking for her by the Ravenclaw area, some smarmy looking guy Oliver thinks is named Palmer tells him she went to sleep hours ago.

Weird.

Still, Oliver didn’t let his good feeling go away overnight, chewing on his breakfast with a stupid grin he just can’t shake off.

He keeps his eyes trained on the entrance of the Great Hall, waiting for Felicity to walk in so he can let the thousands of golden snitches in his stomach be put to rest.

As he waits, the owls that deliver the mail drop in through the window.

In his plate lands the usual, a copy of _The Daily Prophet,_ and a letter from his mother. Where the latter used to alarm him, he’s come to expect it every other day, as she’s taken up writing just to check in on him.

The last envelope is what makes his blood run cold.

Immediately, the unmarked envelope makes him pause. The paper is a stark white, different from what he usually receives.

Remembering what happened with his mother, he wonders if he should open it at all.

He spins the envelope uncomfortably in his hands. Once, twice, three times before he decides that if it was going to harm him, it would have already.

Still, he tears the seal with the tip of his wand instead of his hands.

His breath comes out short as he reads the words in horror.

_You aren’t safe, not even in your school._

_Neither is your sister, nor your little blonde friend._

_Sometimes, the devils are inside the walls._

Thea.

And Felicity.

Oliver pushes off the chair, his breakfast forgotten.

* * *

Oliver hasn’t really faced down the Headmaster like this in a while.

It’s been a good year, okay? He’s been staying out of trouble.

But some things never change, even if he hasn’t done anything Oliver still feels that familiar chill as Waller stares him down with a force that would make a dementor shake.

She stares at him for a long time, not saying anything, and Oliver has to actively remind himself he’s not the one in trouble here.

After five minutes of staring, she finally turns her attention to the note. Lifting her wand, she makes the offending document levitate and turn in the air as she speaks.

“You said there was no mark on the envelope?”

Oliver clenches his jaw.

“No.”

“No name, address, any kind of indication as to where this came from?”

“No.”

“What can you tell me about the owl that delivered it?”

“It was… uh,” Oliver furrows his eyebrows, wracking his brain, “It was…” 

She offers a sympathetic look, or at least the closest thing Amanda Waller can muster.

“Anything will help. Size, colour, species?” her voice is calmer now, as if she can tell how his breathing comes out more ragged as he searches for an answer.

“It was… brown,” Oliver says finally, his shoulders dropping.

How unhelpful of him. He should have remembered more, why wasn’t he paying attention?

“It flew away before I even opened the envelope ...” Oliver tries to recall the events, but even though it was just half an hour ago he finds he can’t.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he admits shamefully, “I should have payed more attention.”

He realizes, with frightening clarity, the cause of his distraction.

He was so focused on Felicity, on his feelings for her and how to act on them, that everything else blurred out.

Feelings that seem so insignificant now that he stares down a piece of paper that threatens her. A threat that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for her knowing him.

If he brought this on her now when they were just friends, who knew what could arise if they ever became more?

As Waller discusses their next steps – precautions they’ll take when the mail arrives, what she will do to investigate this particular note, Oliver silently decides that he has to stop pursuing his feelings for Felicity.

For her own good.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: It’s the holidays, what could possibly go wrong?
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	8. The Holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays roll around at Hogwarts. This year, it's a little hard for Felicity to enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm sorry this is a little late. I wrote this in between study breaks and classes and train trips home from school so, that's what my life has been lately. Also, fair warning, I've never celebrated either Hanukkah or Christmas, so everything I know about those two come from movies/Internet.
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy!

The holidays sneak up on Felicity with little warning.

As usual, she plans to stay at the castle, since it’s too hard to get back home to Las Vegas for just a few weeks. Despite the fact that she’s been doing this for years, it’s hard not to feel lonely as she lights a small menorah by herself in her room each night.

Wizards aren’t exactly religious. The traditions around Christmas are more out of for the fun of it. But Donna Smoak didn’t drill Jewish customs into her for eleven years only to have her forget it all at Hogwarts (she’d never forget the way her mother wailed at her bat mitzvah)

So that’s why, even if she couldn’t do much else, Felicity celebrated Hanukkah by herself every year. Even if it did make her ache for her mother a little bit more than usual.

The only good thing about this time of year, Felicity’s learned, is how peaceful the castle seems when it’s emptied out.

Only about fifty students stay each year, which means she can get all the best seats in the common room or the library.

It’s a benefit she takes advantage of Christmas morning, where she sits on her favourite chair in the Ravenclaw common room to read the novel her mom sent her for the holiday.

It’s hard to ignore the other reason she feels lonely this year, other than the familiar ache of being away from her mom.

It’s Oliver.

Oliver who, since his Quidditch match two weeks ago, has been either acting strange or avoiding her altogether.

It sucks.

She didn’t realize how easily he had slid into every aspect of her life until the gaps were apparent without him.

She thinks he might have stayed in the castle for the holidays, but she can’t be sure. Given everything that happened in the past few months, it wouldn’t surprise her.

If he did stay, that would hurt for an entirely different reason.

He knows she always stays.

She told him how much she missed being home this time of year.

It would be nice to get _one word_ out of him at least.

She had tried to talk to Dinah about it, but her own friend has been acting strange herself lately, more distant and distracted whenever she’d try and get a conversation out of her.

She pushes the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the novel her mom sent her as a gift.

She gets about an hour of reading done before a shy first year taps her shoulder.

“Um, I’m sorry,” he says, backing away slightly when she lifts her gaze from her book (is she really that scary?), “Are you Felicity?”

“Yeah,” she says cautiously, throwing a bookmark in her page.

“There’s someone outside looking for you. A guy in Gryffindor. He really wants to talk to you, won’t take no for an answer.”

Son of a bitch.

“Okay, thanks, I’ll handle it,” she says.

The kid looks relieved that his part as messenger is done and hurries off.

When she gets up, Felicity feels  furious.

She opens the door to the Ravenclaw common room with perhaps a little more force than necessary. On the other side stands, looking rightfully sheepish, Oliver. His hands are actually behind his back, and his eyes wide with shame, looking like some guilty schoolboy in a way that just irritates Felicity even more.

“Hi,” he says after a minute of her staring. The corner of his mouth perks up a bit.

“Oliver,” she says shortly, “What brings you out here?”

“I..…” he opens his mouth, but whatever he planned to say, presumably, gets discarded when he sees the unamused expression on her face.

Good.

He should stew a little bit.

“It’s Christmas,” he says simply, as though that’s the answer for avoiding her for the past fourteen plus days.

“I’m Jewish,” she crosses her arms across her chest and only slightly feels gleeful as his mouth goes slack and his eyes dart back and forth. 

“Oh." he says simply.

She huffs.

“Why are you here, Oliver?"

Oliver switches gears, taking the opening to square his shoulders.

“I know that I’ve been kind of an ass lately, and blew you off a few times with no reason.”

She says nothing, only raising her eyebrows to convey her best _you think?_ look.

“More than a few times,” he concedes, “And I’m sorry for that. Truly. It wasn’t fair to you.”

She eyes him carefully, knowing him well enough by now to figure out when he’s being sincere and when he isn’t.

Damn. She deflates a little.

“I don’t need an apology, Oliver, but maybe an explanation would be nice. Did I…” she throws a hand in the air helplessly, “Do something?”

Oliver’s eyes widen.

“No! Not at all, it was…” he trails off, looking at a spot in the wall with a pained expression, “It was… just some stuff I was going through.”

She doesn’t know what to say. She just nods.

“And so now, I’m stuck here,” he continues, “You’re obviously stuck here, I figured we shouldn’t spend Christmas alone.”

When she stays silent, he brings his hand out from behind him.

“I got you a present?” he says in a small voice.

And, well, damn. She would have relented anyway, but now it looks like she just wants the gift.

“Wait here,” she says simply.

She walks up to her room, searches under a pile of sweaters for a silver wrapped box she had long since discarded in her trunk. A present she had meticulously wrapped one night and then thrown to the side later when the hurt of Oliver avoiding her set in.

She’s half surprised to see him still waiting by the door when she comes back down. His head is half peaked in the space as he tries to look around curiously. When he catches her coming down the stairs, he perks up.

She waves the box in her hand.

“So, where do you want to do this?” Pause. “And by this, I mean gift exchange.”

Oliver gives her a half smile, one that makes the dimple in his cheek deepen.

“I have Thea waiting in the Gryffindor common room for me. I promised we would open our gifts together. That is… if you want to join us…?”

He throws her those damn innocent eyes again and she can’t say no.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

So, Felicity wasn’t really that worried about meeting Thea Queen.

Turns out, she should have been, because it only takes two minutes for her to put her own foot in her mouth.

“So, you guys are staying at Hogwarts this year for Christmas?” she tries to ask conversationally.

From her spot on a brown couch, Thea gives a bright smile.

“Yup. We were told to stay here for our own safety.” Her voice is featherlight, but Felicity can sense the tension behind it. “Waller passed the message on from our mother. See, we have this thing against talking in our family.”

The young girl sends a glare Oliver’s way, and Felicity winces.

Maybe not the best conversation starter.

Oliver places a gentle hand on Felicity’s shoulder, as if to assure her it’s not her fault. He guides her down on one of the couches.

“Why don’t you start with one of your presents, Speedy,” he says with a little more force than usual.

Thea picks up one of the boxes in front of her.

“It’s from Mom,” she says unenthusiastically. She tears the wrapping paper and the box underneath makes her expression soften instantly.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. She gives a little shaky smile and holds the box up, “Ollie, look.”

She holds up a brown box to show Oliver, and whatever it is changes the atmosphere around the siblings.

“No way,” Oliver says with a laugh, but it sounds thick to Felicity, “Let me see that.”

He leans over to inspect the gift closely with a smile.

“I can’t believe she gave it to you,” he says.

Thea nods and gives a little sniff.

“Me too.”

He looks up to explain to Felicity.

“Our dad used to keep a bunch of cool things in his office that we weren’t allowed to touch. Thea _loved_ this music box, and she would always play with it but could never take it out. She drove our dad _crazy_ asking him if she could keep it.”

As he speaks, Thea turns the magic box around to show Felicity, standing on a golden platform is a ballerina who spins and raises her arms every so often. The dancer gives Felicity a smile.

Thea traces the edges of the box.

“I miss him,” she whispers, mostly to herself.

“I do too, Speedy,” Oliver replies quietly.

Felicity watches the scene and shifts in her spot, suddenly feeling extremely out of place as the siblings share a private moment. She briefly wonders if she could slip out the common room without anyone noticing.

Oliver catches her eye just then, as if sensing her discomfort.

“Felicity, want to go next?”

He doesn’t give her time to answer, but slides over a small, navy blue wrapped box with an uncharacteristically bashful smile.

“It’s not much,” he says simply.

Felicity furrows her eyebrows, but tears at the paper to find a rectangular black box. Oddly, she feels her heart pounding in her ears as she lifts the lid.

Sitting inside, a dainty silver bracelet with a small triangular charm dangling from the end.

Without having time to stop herself, she gasps.

“Oliver, oh my god,” her mouth drops open, “You really didn’t need to buy me jewelry, this is too much.”

She sets the box in her lap to look at him.

He fights the smile tugging at his lips.

“I uh… I didn’t buy it.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow.

“I made it,” he admits, ears going pink, “In Transfiguration class, we had this extra credit assignment, manipulating metals. Turns out, I got pretty good at working with silver so I…”

He shrugs.

Felicity can’t fight off the ridiculous, _giddy_ smile that has been threatening to take over her face as he speaks.

“It’s really nothing,” He concludes.

Felicity shakes her head in awe, and holds her wrist out.

“Help me put it on?”

He complies with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners when she whispers a thank you. Neither of them notice Thea observing the scene with a wry grin of her own.

Felicity looks down at the chain that dangles from her wrist. She idly flicks the charm back and forth.

“What is it?”

“An Arrowhead,” he responds, and she tilts her head to the side, “I got really good at making them.”

She tries again and again to reign her smile in, but fails.

“Well, I love it. Thank you.”

Oliver can only tilt his head down shyly.

“Like I said, it was nothing.”

Felicity reaches for the silver box of her own, suddenly feeling very self conscious.

“It probably doesn’t nearly compare to what you gave but, here. I hope you like it.”

It’s embarrassing, and hard to admit, but given her limited income gets converted from Muggle dollars to wizard currency, she didn’t exactly have a lot to work with for presents this year. Still, she tried her best to get something Oliver would like.

Oliver unties the neat bow and lifts the lid of the box. His smile grows when he sees what’s inside.

“Felicity, these are amazing,” he reaches inside to find a set of brown leather Quidditch gloves with his initials embroidered in gold at the wrists. He holds them close to his chest and gives her a look she can’t place, “Maybe these can be my new good luck charm when I’m out there.”

Felicity feels her neck warm up at his words, but ignores the feeling and juts her chin out. “There’s a little more, look inside.”

He complies, holding up a book from a Muggle author she’d recommended time and time again, and a holiday chocolate set from Honeydukes with a small card tacked on labelled _don’t sweat the sweet stuff_ in her loopy scrawl. It makes him laugh.

“It’s amazing, Felicity, thank you.”

She tries to repeat his _it’s nothing_ from earlier, but the words get caught in her throat as Oliver pushes the box aside and throws his arms around her.  

She curls one hand up around his back and lets it fall on his shoulder, surprised at his display of affection.

A moment later, she feels his arms stiffen as he pulls back. His eyes are cast downwards as he adjusts back in his seat. He gives an awkward smile, as if an apology is on his lips, but decides against it at the last minute.

Felicity clears her throat, feeling warm herself. She looks over to Thea, embarrassed at the display of… something that happened right in front of Oliver’s little sister. But the younger girl is oblivious, enthralled by the long letter Moira Queen wrote her along with her present. Whatever she’s written brings tears to Thea’s eyes and a smile on her face, a far cry from her sour mood earlier.

Oliver nudges her and they move back on the couch.

“So…” she asks, tracing a finger up and down her bracelet, “I need to ask – I mean – This gift was really nice, Oliver, and I appreciate it– but about what’s been going on lately…”

Oliver’s gaze darkens.

“Something did happen,” he says vaguely.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Felicity offers, for once unable to read his face.

“No,” Oliver says shortly. It makes her clench her jaw shut, trying to ignore the sting.

His eyes slide shut.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighs, “I just meant … it was something going on with me. And I let it get in the way of my judgement and pushed you away. For that, I’m sorry.”

She looks at him for a long time, trying to find the catch, the lie, whatever, but only finds sincerity.

“Okay,” she finally says, and he sighs in relief.

They enjoy a moment of quiet, not an awkward one, but a comfortable lull in the conversation.

“So how were your holidays otherwise?” Oliver asks casually.

Felicity shrugs.

“It was okay. Hanukkah finished a few days ago so since then I’ve been enjoying my time off.”

“You mentioned that earlier,” he says, “About Hanukkah. I had no idea, I wouldn’t have waited until Christmas otherwise.

Felicity gives a little smile.

“It’s no big deal. You didn’t know.”

“I don’t know much about it,” Oliver admits, “What sort of thing do you usually do at the castle?”

“Mostly light my menorah in my room, it’s the only thing I can do by myself, but I like the tradition.”

“It sounds nice,” he observes.

“It is,” Felicity says with a smile, “Really nice. The only thing I hate about it is doing all of it without my mom. It was kind of our thing.”

“You don’t talk about her that much,” Oliver comments.

“Mmm…” she looks up thoughtfully, “Mostly because I miss her, and talking about it sucks. But Hannukah was the one time a year she would always make time for us, otherwise she’d be working so much. And we weren’t really big on cooking, but she wanted to keep our culture alive. But yeah, being here, where no one really gets what I’m doing, kind of sucks.”

She shrugs.

“It’s hard not to feel lonely.”

Pain flashes through Oliver’s eyes for a moment, and Felicity realizes too late that she may have implied that some of her loneliness this year was caused by him.

“Wait here for just a minute,” he says, pushing himself up with his palms, “I have to get something from my room.”

Felicity furrows her eyebrows at his abrupt change in mood, but nods.

When he disappears up the stairs, Felicity moves over to Thea again to make conversation with the young girl.

It goes better than earlier, she learns in what ways Thea is similar to her brother – dry humor, a Quidditch enthusiast, and a big heart that can’t be hidden with those frowns for the public. Thea doesn’t shy away from Felicity either, asking her questions in return.

They get along fairly well, despite the difference in ages, and eventually find mutual ground in Oliver.

“Hey, speaking of,” Thea looks out the window of the common room and frowns, “The sun’s nearly gone down, where did Ollie go?”

Felicity mimes her actions. Strangely, a rock forms in her stomach.

“That’s –” she pauses on the word _strange_ when they hear footsteps, but it ends up being a boy that Felicity doesn’t recognize.

“That’s one of Ollie’s roommates,” Thea comments, “I recognize him.”

“Do you think he might have seen him?” Felicity asks, but Thea is two steps ahead of her.

“Rene!” she calls out, and at the sound he turns, “Was my brother up there?”

Rene shakes his head.

“I haven’t seen him, sorry.”

The rock grows heavier.

“That doesn’t make sense,” Felicity says with perhaps a little more force than necessary, “We saw him go up. Can you check again?”

Rene complies with little fight, trudging up the stairs again. Felicity twists her fingers, trying not to make her growing worry obvious to Thea as they wait. When he comes back down again, Rene confirms that Oliver isn’t up there.

“Is everything okay?” he asks hesitantly, eyes darting back and forth between the two girls.

“Fine,” Felicity says, “Just wondering where he went.”

She purses her lips tightly together, trying to think.

“Maybe he went down to dinner and you missed him,” the other boy offers, but they wave him off.

“Do you mind helping us out? Maybe checking some bathrooms?” Felicity is aware she sounds paranoid, and hell, maybe she _is_ paranoid, but the weight pressing down on her gut prompts the words.

Rene must see the worry, and complies easily.

What starts in the Gryffindor area turns into a search of the whole castle, Felicity and Thea missing dinner in favour of looking through every corner they could.

With each minute, the dread grows and makes Felicity’s hands shake. It’s not long until they’ve looked at every classroom, library carol, and hallway that her logical mind can reach one conclusion.

Thea sighs tiredly next to her.

“What do we do now?”

“We go to Waller,” Felicity tries to keep her tone steady as she voices what she wanted to refuse for the past hour.

“She needs to know that Oliver’s gone missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Is this my first cliffhanger of the fic? I think so. Eep. It definitely wont be the last)
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	9. Taken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver wakes up somewhere unfamiliar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, happy Friday. Real quick: this is... a little darker than I've been, and for that reason a little bit shorter too. Also, a little technical if you're not used to the HP stuff, I did my best to explain, I hope.
> 
> Anyway. Eeep. I'm nervous about posting this one. I hope you like it.

When Oliver wakes up, the first thing he realizes is that his head _hurts like hell._

It feels something like a bad hangover, the kind he got all too familiar with in the summer before sixth year with Tommy. His eyelids feel sticky as he tries to blink himself into awareness, his head a thousand pounds as he tries to lift it off the cold ground.

Wait.

Cold ground?

His neck snaps up, which proves to be a terrible idea as he instantly hisses. He wants to hold his head, but when he tries he realizes his hands are tied behind his back and won’t let him.

Oliver doesn’t know where he is.

He tries to look around, but there’s not much in this dark space for his eyes to adjust to. It’s cold, and damp. It felt like his cheek was pressed up against concrete earlier, so the room isn’t exactly full of accommodations.

Fear bubbles up inside his chest, but he pushes it down, trying to figure out where he is.

The last thing he remembers is going up to his room. The letter he had received from an anonymous source sat on his nightstand – Waller inspected it for hours and said it didn’t hold any danger in the pages. He wanted to bring the letter down, to show Felicity.

But when he pushed the envelope away to reach for the corner of the page, his world started spinning.

And then he ended up here.

He tries to sit up, but it’s hard with his hands pressed against his back. He pushes on his elbows and winces.

He doesn’t know how long he’d been passed out on the ground. It could have been hours, or _days._ The room he’s in doesn’t have any windows to tell him if it’s day or night. He doesn’t even know if he’s even in the same _country_ anymore.

It’s too much.

The panic that had rung in his ears since he woke up becomes a loud whine, his breaths coming out shallower as his circumstances become apparent.

He was taken, and he doesn’t know where he is.

If someone got to him, it’s possible they might have gotten to Thea.

_They might have gotten to Felicity._

He hears rustling behind him, a couple of pairs of footsteps and faint voices. On instinct, he pushes back down to the ground again.

“It’s been over eight hours,” a bored voice says. At first, Oliver wonders if they’re talking to him, but they don’t seem to realize he’s awake yet. “What are we going to do with him?”

“He didn’t respond well to the first line of questions,” another man snickers, “Well, he didn’t respond at all.”

Questions?

Oliver doesn’t remember being questioned. He doesn’t remember being awake in here before this moment.

It’s a strangely disarming feeling, to lose parts of his memory like this but hear about it from others, and he hates it.

“He’s still held up better than others have,” the first man – or is it another person? Oliver can’t keep track – comments.

Oliver tries to move his arms once again. Behind his back, it feels like only a thin piece of thread is binding his wrists together, and he could just snap it off with a bit of effort. To his horror, when he tries to pull it apart, the string gets tighter, digging into his wrists and imprinting a burn into the skin.

He grunts in frustration, and when he realizes it’s just a little too loud, he freezes.

The voices behind him stop, and one pair of feet walks over to him. He’s grabbed by the shoulders and roughly turned around and forced into a sitting position.

From this angle, Oliver can see small blue little light coming off the tip of a wand. It helps him see that he is now face to face with three men in dark hoods and silver masks with snake slit eyes.

He recognizes them, straight out of the history textbooks and the images they’d drilled into students for years and years.

Death Eaters.

“Oliver,” one comments, the masked head tilting to the side, “You’re awake.”

He doesn’t answer. The words don’t find the way to his mouth when his brain is all too busy trying to reconcile the fact that Death Eaters are right in front of him.

“Good,” he says. The sound of wands being drawn make Oliver tense.

“Oliver, let’s try this again,” the one in front of him says. His voice is calm, as if he’s going to ask Oliver the weather outside. It sets Oliver’s teeth on edge. “What did Robert tell you before he died?”

When the other two shift behind him, Oliver’s heart starts pounding.

“What? He didn’t tell me anything, what’s going on?”

Though he intended to keep a cooler facade for longer, the fear slips through the cracks too quickly, and the Death Eaters notice. Oliver internally curses, wishing he could be just a little bit stronger in this moment.

“What do you know about the circumstances surrounding Robert Queen’s death?” the same voice asks, a steady monotone.

“I don’t – I don’t know anything. I just know whatever was in the papers, I –”

The tip of a wand presses into his back.

His answers aren’t good enough.

“Think carefully, Oliver,” the man says, “Think about everything you have to lose if you don’t answer. Think about your sister, and your mother. You wouldn’t want us to find them and bring them in, now would you?”

At his words, Oliver feels the weight on his chest lessen. Thea and his mother were safe, then.

“Oliver,” he says his name like a gentle reprimand, “If you don’t answer, we’re going to have to get the answers out of you. Now, everyone knows you worked for your father all summer before he died, what did he tell you?”

Oliver gets the sinking feeling that whatever it is they’re looking for, he doesn’t have it, but that won’t stop them from hurting him.

He says nothing, lowering his eyes to the concrete.

The man in front of him sighs.

“Very well,” he says, bored. He looks to the Death Eaters stationed behind Oliver. “Now.”

One snickers.

“Finally. _Crucio._ ”

Oliver barely has time to register the curse, and the red light that flashes in front of him before the pain hits.

He’s learned about the Cruciatus Curse in school. At length.

He knows it’s difficult, and painful. He knows the illegal spell was used as a method of torture during the war. He knows that some people who were on the receiving end never recovered. He knows Harry Potter faced it, and used it. He knows that it’s about as hard to bare as it is to recite it.

But nothing he learned from the books could prepare him for this.

It feels like metal, white hot metal cutting through his skin, up his spine and down his centre all at once. The pain is everywhere, it makes his ears ring loudly. His head feels it’s going to burst in two.

The impact makes him fall back, and he barely registers the feeling of his head hitting the concrete when his back arches up in pain.

He can’t speak – can’t even find the strength to scream – but if he could he would surely tell these Death Eaters _anything_ to make the pain stop.  

The feeling – white hot, relentless pain – persists for so long Oliver could no longer keep track of the minutes. Sweat starts trickling down his forehead, and he tries to focus on that feeling, anything other than the persistent ache he felt all over.

Eventually, he finds his voice again. Or at least, he thinks he does, because he can feel his mouth moving again but he doesn’t register anything else until the pain just stops.

As sharply as it came, the white-hot knife leaves his chest. He lets out a gasp when it does, feeling as though his body has come back down to earth.

At some point he must have fallen over, because he’s lying down now. His cheek is pressed against the dust in the concrete, just as it had when he first woke up. His knees are curled up his body.

His t-shirt feels damp from sweat, and it makes him shiver. He wants to rub his hands down his arms but pulls at the binding again and curses – it tightens once more and burns into his wrists.

His eyes slip shut again, but he tries to fight it. He’s exhausted, but something tells him that was only the beginning.

As he catches his breath, one of the Death Eaters walks over.

“It doesn’t have to be this difficult, Oliver,” he says. His voice drives Oliver crazy. It’s patronizing and infuriating but fills Oliver with dread all at once. “We can try something else.”

He grabs his shoulders and roughly forces Oliver into a sitting position

“Tell us what you know about the Darhk plan?”

“The dark plan?” Oliver shakes his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Frustration leaks into his voice, and he drops his head to try and reign his emotions in.

The Death Eater sighs and pulls back. His mask jerks up just a little.

This time, no one says anything, but when he sees the flash of red light Oliver braces himself.

It’s by no means easier than the first time. The pain still feels like his veins have been set on fire, he still feels himself writhing on the ground.

This time, he thinks he screams. He isn’t sure, but when they stop the pain and he comes down from it, his throat feels raw and dry, his tongue feels like a rock in his mouth.

He collapses against the ground once more, this time feeling blood on his forehead. he can only barely register the sound of their footsteps as they exit before he gives into his fatigue.

* * *

From that point on, it’s hard to keep track of time.

Hours pass by. Sometimes he manages to sleep, but his instincts force him awake when his eyes get too heavy, not trusting what could happen to him if he slept.

The same three Death Eaters – at least, he assumes the same, for only one speaks but they all have the same height and sadistic pleasure in torture – come and go.

They ask him the same questions.

“What did your father tell you? What are you hiding? What do you know?”

“Nothing, I don’t understand, please – please – _please._ ”

And on. And on.

Sometimes they left water, but in a single metal cup resting on the ground. Oliver didn’t trust anything they gave him, no matter how lightheaded his head started to feel. Not to mention, his hands were still bound behind his back and he would sooner die than to give his captors the pleasure of watching him bend over for his water like an animal.

Some moments, he feels like he is getting better, like he’s becoming accustomed to the pain and can bare it. But sometimes, they change their methods. They stand behind him, they don’t speak, they shield his eyes so he doesn’t know when the curse will hit him. He thinks those moments to be the worst, when he doesn’t have a moment to brace himself before the pain starts and he’s screaming until he’s hoarse.

One day – he thinks a day must have past at this point – a fourth member joins the group. He’s taller than the rest, but that’s all Oliver can differentiate in the group of snake eyed masks and hoods.

He walks over to Oliver, clearly intending to take charge. He crouches down to his knees as if to get the closest view of Oliver as he can.

“I don’t know anything,” Oliver croaks out tiredly. He’s been saying it for days, his words falling on deaf ears. A silly part of him hopes this newcomer could be his saving grace.

“What do you know about Felicity Smoak?” he asks instead.

Oliver sucks a breath in. This isn’t like anything he was asked before.

“What?” he says, feeling caught.

“What is she to you? Are you close? Do you tell _her_ what you know?”

Dread fills Oliver’s chest.

“Nothing, nothing,” he says, the words coming out desperately, “She doesn’t know anything. _I_ don’t know anything. Please – please listen to me, she’s –“

His words are cut off by a sound outside his cell. It comes from the hallway, he thinks, where the door is still open and a sliver of light comes in. It’s the first giveaway that he’s not alone in here, but it makes his blood go cold.

“ _No, no,”_ he thinks he hears.

Oh god, it’s a woman’s voice. It sounds like – it sounds like –

He doesn’t have time to finish his thought, because the pleading is replaced by a piercing shriek that cuts through his heart worse than anything else his captors subjected him to.

He hopes it can’t be real, that it’s just a trick they’re using on him to get information out, but when it makes one of the other Death Eaters flinch, dread fills Oliver.

No one speaks, the shrieking is the only sound Oliver can hear. It drives him mad, trying to decipher if it’s real, if it’s even Felicity like his mind is so ready to believe.

Soon, they leave.

They don’t come back for hours.

The screams echo outside the halls and inside Oliver’s head the entire time.

* * *

For a brief period in between, it seems like everything slows down.

They unbind Oliver. Let him relieve himself and force him to eat. He’s left alone for long enough to give into the exhaustion that tugged at his eyes and he manages to sleep enough to feel a little more rested.

But soon, the three Death Eaters come storming in.

It jolts Oliver up, given that it’s a far cry from their usual collected attitude when they come in.

One grabs him roughly and forces him still. They bind his wrists, this time in his front so that they land in his lap. One holds him by the shoulders.

“I will ask one more time,” the calm voice is replaced by an angrier one, “Tell us what you know, Oliver.”

Oliver’s shoulders drop.

“I already told you, I don’t –”

“ _Sectumsempra!”_

Oliver doesn’t know this spell. It sounds vaguely familiar, like he should know it, but it’s not as common as the other methods they were employing.

The effects of the spell quickly become clear.

The first slash comes down his arm, as though an invisible sword had run across it. His neck snaps down at the stinging sensation, watching the blood trickle down his forearm, but it isn’t long until the next hit comes down his stomach.

He doubles over in pain, watching helplessly as his white shirt gets stained a dark maroon. Another slash on his bicep, down his hip, he thinks he feels blood on his calf too.

The blood falls onto the concrete, and Oliver can do nothing but watch.

This is it, he thinks to himself. He survived days of torture under one of the Unforgivable Curses, but he will bleed out here. All for answers he’ll never be able to give these men.

His head starts to feel lighter, and he knows it’s the loss of blood kicking in. He wants to close his eyes, but his heart pounds loudly in his ears and keeps him going

The Death Eater who did this to him raises his wand once more, but a hand reaches out and stops him.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, “We can’t have the boy _die_ on us. Not yet.”

Whatever he says, it makes the bleeding stop. His chest still burns from where the invisible knife slashed through him, and he still feels the cold sensation of blood trickling down his skin.

The Death Eaters keep talking, but Oliver struggles to keep up. His head feels far too light.

Black spots dance across his vision and he tries to blink them away.

Slowly, his world goes dark once more.

* * *

When he comes to, Oliver finds his cheek pressed against damp grass, not the concrete ground he had grown used to.

His wrists are untied, and he pushes himself up as he blinks into awareness.

The outline he can faintly register as Hogwarts Castle comes into view.

Oliver exhales.

With shaky steps, he walks to the front door. Someone opens it on the other side before he gathers the strength to reach the knob, but before he can register who it is, his knees give out underneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	10. New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver returns, but not everything is the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps mic* hello is this thing on. 
> 
> I’m so sorry for disappearing for two months. School got busy, life got hard, things happen. For now, I’m on break until mid-January, and I’m hoping I can get a lot of writing done before the semester starts and makes me super busy again.
> 
> If you’re still here, I hope this chapter is worth the wait. Enjoy!

_Founded in 990 A.D., by four of the brightest wizards of their time, Hogwarts –_

Wait, no. Start again.

_Founded in 990 A.D., by four of the brightest wizards of their time, Hogwarts –_

Nope.

_Founded in –_

Felicity slams the book shut, letting small particles of dust fly out the pages and dance around her face. It was useless trying to concentrate.

 _Hogwarts: A History_ is listed under Hermione Granger’s official biography of one of her all time favourite books. That’s why it became one of the first books Felicity Smoak bought with her own money once she started school, considering she wanted to embody her hero in every possible way she could.

(A smart, Muggleborn witch? It was hard not to immediately look up to her).

She always turned to the book when she needed to take her mind off other things. The simple facts and rich history laid out on golden brown pages brought her a strange sense of peace.

Today, she can’t get past the first page.

Her mind is a little more than distracted right now. Initially, picking up the book had seemed like a nice way to try and relax, but it quickly became a hopeless endeavor that maybe through the pages she’d be able to find some kind of answers.

It’s been about a week since Christmas, since opening gifts in the Gryffindor common room, since spending her day with the Queen siblings…

A week since Oliver went upstairs to his room and never came down.

A week since Felicity had to hold Thea’s hand, go with her to tell Waller what had happened.

In the past few days, there had been an extensive investigation. The entire castle had been searched, the grounds outside, the train station, Hogsmeade, _everywhere_. With no luck.

Most students are still on holiday, so they’ve tried to keep the news of Oliver’s disappearance out of the news and as quiet as possible.

But they did have to call Moira Queen.

And jeez.

That woman is _scary._

Felicity really sympathized with Waller for having to break the news to her, because it couldn’t have been easy.

After that, there wasn’t much Felicity could do. She spent evenings with Thea, trying to reassure her while ignoring the twists in her stomach and dodging any interactions with Oliver’s mom.

After the sixth day of an Oliverless week, Felicity decided she may as well try and get some schoolwork done before the worry for him drove her insane.

It hasn’t exactly been working.

When she puts her book away, looking around the library and wondering if there would be something else to better distract her, she sees a figure running her way.

It’s Thea. When she reaches Felicity’s table, her hair falls wildly around her face. Her eyes are rimmed red, but she’s smiling.

“Felicity,” she takes a minute to catch her breath, “They found him. They found Ollie.”

* * *

So, Felicity’s not ashamed enough to admit that she ran.

She _was_ going for a brisk walk, but when Thea’s steps picked up she couldn’t help herself.

Thea offered little explanation before they took off – “The groundskeeper found him this morning, he’s in the hospital wing now –” but it was enough for Felicity.

Oliver is okay.

_Oliver is okay._

As they get closer to the hospital wing, the first thing Felicity hears is yelling. The door is closed, but it’s not enough to drown out the noise.

The sounds send a chill down her spine.

Thea reaches for the door, but when she sees Felicity hesitate, she furrows her eyebrows.

“Don’t you want to see him?”

Felicity’s fingers knit together.

“I don’t know,” she twists her hands uncomfortably, “Maybe I should wait. Let him spend time with you and your mom first. Plus I bet the Aurors are going to want to ask him a million questions.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Thea rolls her eyes, “He’ll want to see you.”

She pulls open the door and Felicity follows only a few moments later. There is indeed a crowd of people around him, so she can only see his bare feet at the bottom of his bed, thrashing around.

“ _No! NO! You’re not listening to me!”_ he shouts.

His voice is unlike anything Felicity’s heard before. It sounds broken, like his throat is sore, but it doesn’t stop him from crying out. The sound makes her take a step back towards the door, silently deciding that she would beg Thea off again.

“Mr. Queen, if you could please calm down so we can –”

“NO. They had her too! You aren’t listening! She isn’t safe!”

“Mr. Queen –”

“No! Felicity!”

At her own name being shouted, Felicity gasps. It’s not at all what he expected when she heard him yelling.

Thea turns back to her. She looks as upset as Felicity feels and raises a shaky hand and gestures for Felicity to come forward.

She walks over hesitantly, and Oliver finally comes into view.

The sight breaks her heart.

His shirt is soaked in blood, arms and his pale face is caked in dirt. He looks thinner, even though it’s only been a week. He’s visibly exhausted, but won’t stop protesting against the Healers who try and tend to him.

“Where is she? They had her too, you’re not listening to me, we have to get her!”

Felicity swallows down the lump in her throat – what happened to him? – and forces herself into his eyeline.

“Oliver,” she whispers, “I’m right here.”

When his wide eyes meet her – he instantly relaxes. The Healer next to him uses it as a chance to press her wand into his arm, and his eyes slip shut and his head falls back against the pillow.

After that, things move a little quickly, but Felicity is too dazed by what just happened to keep up.

Thea and Felicity are escorted out of the room by Healers, insisting that they need to address his injuries and he needs rest, but Thea stays behind to ask a few questions – or demand a few answers.

On her way out, Felicity hears another kind of yelling down the hall. She looks over and sees Moira and Waller. Waller looks calm, a single eyebrow raised as Moira’s hands fly in the air.

“ _… still don’t understand how you could let this happen,”_ Moira fumes, “ _Unbelievable, really, and now I can’t even see him_.”

“ _He has to have his injuries tended to, Mrs. Queen, now please –”_

 _“Injuries!”_ Moira erupts, “ _Injuries he shouldn’t have if_ you _kept your promise of keeping him safe!”_

Waller says something else, in a low voice that Felicity can’t pick up. She puts a gentle hand on Moira’s shoulder and leads her towards her office.

Felicity tears her gaze away from the scene, turning her attention instead to Thea, who walks back with red rimmed eyes.

She reaches out, placing a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder.

“Hey, how you holding up?”

Thea looks down.

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice giving away how shaken she feels, “Don’t worry about me, not when Ollie’s –”

She breaks off, and Felicity brings her arm tightly around her shoulder to pull her in.

“He’s okay now, Thea,” she says gently, though admittedly she hasn’t been able to see for herself how true that is.

The younger girl just nods into Felicity’s shoulder.

“So, did they tell you what happened?”

Thea pulls away, and her anxious expression is replaced by one that is more annoyed.

“They said he was kidnapped for money, but…” she bites her lip, “That’s not what Ollie was saying.”

Felicity’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean?”

“He…” Thea trails off, “Never mind, he’s not making any sense. I think he’s just confused.”

Felicity tucks that piece of information away for later, and decides instead to try another tactic.

“How is he feeling? From what I just saw, he didn’t look like he was in great shape.”

Thea nods, arms folding around her middle as though to comfort herself.

“They had a few healers come in to work on him. They think he got hit with different curses every day he was gone, and he lost a lot of weight. When they found him, he was bleeding out from this spell they didn’t recognize. But he’s okay now. Or getting there. They’re still in there, making sure  there won’t be any lasting damage.”

“It’s going to be okay, Thea.” Felicity says again, sensing the tension that rolls off the other girl’s rigid frame.

“Yeah,” she says distractedly. “They said it’ll still be a while until we can see him properly again, do you want to wait with me?”

Felicity can only nod.

They spend the better part of the afternoon there, choosing to skip over lunch in favor of waiting for any news. Sometime during the evening, Thea and Moira are told they can see him again.

Felicity stays in the hall, not wanting to impose but not wanting to stay too far away either. She waits about half an hour before the Queen women exit again. Moira gives Felicity an unreadable look as she walks past that makes her stomach turn.

“Oliver is sleeping now,” she says simply, “You should let him rest. There’ll be plenty of time to see him later.”

She doesn’t bother to look Felicity in the eyes for longer than a second as she speaks, sweeping off down the hall with enough grace that one would think the castle belonged to her.

Felicity’s eyes turn to Thea, expecting her to give some kind of apologetic look for her mother’s tone like she had done all week, but instead Thea gives her an equally perplexing look.

“I’ll see you around, Felicity,” she mumbles as she follows her mother down.

Well, okay.

She figures she’s wasted enough of her day sitting outside the hospital wing, and since it’s become abundantly clear she won’t see Oliver tonight, she rises from her spot to head down for dinner.

It’s hard to keep the meal down, not with a dozen confusing thoughts swirling through her head. Oliver’s cries from earlier have echoed in her head all day, but added to that were Thea’s odd comments about what Oliver said happened and the Queen women’s newfound coldness towards Felicity.

It was a lot.

Felicity tries to go straight to bed right after dinner. It’s been an eventful day and she hopes the knowledge that Oliver is back safe and sound will help her find a decent night’s rest again.

For once, she’s wrong.

It takes a few chapters of a new novel she picked up from the library, reviewing her Charms essay for the third time (no errors, because she’s Felicity Smoak, that’s why), and walking around her empty room before she finally admits it to herself.

She couldn’t sleep. Not without seeing him just one more time.

It’s probably way too late. She might get in trouble for being out of bed at this hour, but she wants to risk it.

Unsurprisingly, the hallways are empty as she walks to the hospital wing. She’s a little surprised that she’s able to just walk through the front door, but she doesn’t question her luck.

There’s no sign of any Healers, and the space is empty except for just one presence.

His.

He’s the only person occupying the many beds. He’s sitting just slightly upright, eyes closed and hands clasped neatly around his stomach.

As Felicity gently walks closer, she can see the bandages that travel down his arms under the short sleeves of his white shirt, and a thick strip of gauze that peeks out from the v neck.

Though his eyes are closed, he’s sitting far too still to be sleeping, she can tell. He doesn’t look at peace, and she can notice the corner of his mouth twitching.

That, and every so often he twiddles his thumbs.

As she walks over, she has to fight the urge to reach out to him.

Just as she reaches his bed, his eyes open as though he had expected her there all along.

“Hi,” he says softly.

It’s the first time she’s hearing Oliver’s voice – in the way she’s always known, not in the desperate shouting from before – and it makes her breath catch. God, she missed the sound of his voice so much.

“Hi,” she whispers back, settling into the chair next to his bed, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t.”

She looks at him, tired eyes and still-sunken cheeks.

“How do you feel?” she asks, but it feels completely inadequate.

The ridiculousness of her question must show on her face, because Oliver gives her a smile.

“Fine,” he responds, and then furrows his eyebrows, “What time is it?”

She squints a little.

“Close to midnight,” she admits.

Oliver chuckles, and then winces and rubs a hand up his ribcage.

“I’ve really made a rule-breaker out of you, haven’t I, Smoak?”

She tries to laugh in response, but it’s hard to find the strength to when she’s confronted with how just a small chuckle brings Oliver enough pain that it contorts his whole face.

Oliver picks up on it right away, and his face immediately turns serious.

“Felicity,” he says lowly, “I’m fine. I promise.”

Her throat feels a little tighter at his words, and she has to dig her fingers into her own palm to stop herself from crying, but she just nods.

He doesn’t say anything after that, just looking at her with an unreadable expression. Her hands trace along the sheets of his bed gently as she tries to find the right words to say.

Finally, she can’t keep it in. It’s been eating at her all day.

“Oliver, I have to ask, because Thea and your mother – who, is a real treat, by the way – have been giving me weird looks all day,” she eventually says. He raises an eyebrow. “Why were you asking for me when they found you? Why not…”

She stops herself, because outright asking why her over his own family is a dangerous path to go down.

Oliver looks out the window next to his bed. For the first time, his eyes look a little like what they did when she saw him earlier that day. Haunted.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. Felicity wonders if she asked the wrong question.

“They made me think they had you too,” he finally says after a few minutes of silence.

“They?”

“Death Eaters,” he whispers the words. He looks back at her with shining eyes, “Real Death Eaters, Felicity, just like in all the history books. The masks, the cloaks, all of it. No one wants to believe me, they think they’re just messing around and wearing the costumes but – but only dark wizards could do what they did to me. You have to believe me. I just – I just –”

“Hey, hey,” Felicity leans forward, taking his hands in hers. “Oliver, I believe you.”

She moves so she’s half perched on his bed now, leaning in and hoping that maybe the proximity brings him a little bit of comfort.

They do. He seems to relax again, squeezing her fingers so gently she wonders if she imagines it. He looks out the frosty window again.

“The worst part,” he comments quietly, “Has to be all the time I lost. I thought it was just a few days. But they had me for almost a week. I don’t even remember some days.”

Felicity has to ignore the horrifying implication of his words, the gaps in his memories.

“Christmas to New Years Eve,” she says, trying her best to match his quiet tone, “Even Death Eaters respect the holidays I guess.”

“Hm,” Oliver looks back at her, “How close are we to midnight?”

“Won’t be long now, I think.” She checks her watch, “Just under a minute to go, actually.”

Her hand still hasn’t left his, she notices, and she still hasn’t gotten up from her place on his bed. When she tried to reach out to him she hadn’t noticed how close she’d brought herself. Now, with only one candle and the moonlight shining down on them, she wonders if his eyes have always been this blue.

As if reading her thoughts, Oliver sits up a little.

“Oliver,” she whispers, “I thought I lost you.”

“I know, Felicity,” his jaw clenches just a little, as though to hold down some of his own pain, “I know.”

The rest is so simple it seems almost unavoidable.

Her wristwatch beeps, signaling the turn of the hour.

He cranes his neck up. She leans down. Her hair falls down her shoulder as his lips brush against hers in a gentle kiss. His hands tighten around her own.

They part eventually, fighting small smiles as they do. Oliver tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear. Felicity wonders if she looks as content as he does at that moment.

When she finally manages to find her voice again, she has to fight down every embarrassing ramble that threatens to make her way up.

“Happy new year, Oliver,” is what she settles on instead.

“Happy new year, Felicity,” he whispers, so quietly that if she hadn’t been sitting close she would have missed it.

Neither have the urge to pull away just yet. They lean their foreheads together and Felicity fights the almost hysterical giggle that bubbles in her throat.

It was a feeling she had ignored for months as Oliver’s friend, but between the studying and the breakfasts and late night conversations, not to mention the absolutely terrifying week where Felicity thought she’d never see him again, she was forced to confront the truth.

She has very, very strong feelings for the person in front of her. And by the looks of it, she is not alone.

Oliver smiles up at her, a small, easy smile that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. When he blinks, she notices that his lids are slow in opening again, and she is reminded of circumstance.

With one final squeeze of his hand, she leans away.

“I should let you rest,” she says regretfully, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He nods, looking almost bashful as he does and sweeps her lips up in one more quick kiss.

Felicity walks back to her room, an uncontrollable grin on her face. She idly wonders if this featherlight feeling in her chest will ever let her sleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [big, dramatic sigh] FINALLY.
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	11. The Foundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first date at a cozy little spot known as The Foundry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, thank you so much for your kind words last week, esp with my random two month absence. I'm really excited about this one, not 'cause of Olicity but because this one finally introduces John Diggle to the story!! I'm rly excited about the role he has in the rest of the fic and I hope you guys like it.
> 
> Enjoy!

The sound of the Great Hall opening makes Felicity’s head snap up for the fifth time that morning.

She’s starting to get a neck cramp.

She tries not to feel too disappointed at the sight of a group of first years laughing as they enter the room, but the sinking feeling in her stomach is hard to ignore.

It’s been a few days since New Years Eve. School is back on, all the students have returned from their holidays and classes have started up again as they always do.

When everyone did return, the news of Oliver’s disappearance was kept as a secret, as per strict orders from the Aurors investigating his case.

Given that Oliver has been spending a lot of his time in the hospital wing, the official story was that he took a bad fall while practicing Quidditch over the break.

He’s still mostly recovering, which means that he misses a good handful of classes and most meals.

It also means Felicity hasn’t seen him much after their kiss.

Their wonderful, perfectly movie moment kiss that seemed so brilliantly-timed at the moment but has only filled her with doubt since then.

The injuries he sustained from relentless cursing – that the Ministry insisted were _not_ at the hands of Death Eaters – need more time than traditional magic healing techniques could offer.

The first Saturday since holiday break ended, for example, Felicity knows he had checkups and was forced to be on bedrest all day. And since the term had started up again, so had Felicity’s tutoring sessions, so she was too busy walking a group of first years through Charms practice to give Oliver a visit.

All in all, Felicity hasn’t seen him much, and it partly drives her crazy, given how much was left uncertain after their moment on New Year’s.

She would probably be more concerned if he was actively avoiding her, but in the odd moment he catches her in the hallway and sends her a shy smile, she knows everything will be fine if they give it just a little bit of time.

Still, that doesn’t stop her from days like today, where she _hopes_ he’ll be able to come down for breakfast and join her for the first time in weeks.

Today, evidently, her wishes finally get answered, because when she turns back to pick at her toast, she feels someone slide up to her.

Her eyes widen when she looks up to find Oliver, giving her a small smile and bumping his shoulder against hers.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she breathes out, fighting the wide grin that threatens to split her face open. “Long time no see.”

“Mhmm,” he brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear, “I’m sorry about that, but I’m here to make it up to you now.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow at all the … well, touching this morning and tilts her head to the side.

“Is that so?”

Oliver nods.

“You know, it’s Hogsmeade weekend.”

“It sure is.”

Oliver gives her a look, so she just bumps her shoulder back.

“I know I’ve been MIA these days with all the checkups and stuff and we haven’t really had a chance to talk about what happened…” when his expression twists from a teasing one to one of guilt, Felicity shifts forward.

“Oliver, it’s fine, I just want you to feel better.”

“I do feel better,” he tries to smile again, but it looks a little uncertain now, “I want to… I want to take you out,” he says finally.

His eyebrows crease a little as he finds the right words.

Felicity lets out an “Okay” perhaps a little too fast, and Oliver catches it with a smile before the uncertain look returns.

“I want to take you out… go to a nice restaurant and do everything properly but…”

“Oliver?”

He looks frustrated now, and averts his eyes to the table.

“The thing is… with everything that happened I can’t… sit down for long periods of time,” he finally admits, tracing the veins in the wood as he speaks, “I can’t stomach heavy food most days and it… it sucks.”

“Oliver,” she tries to say, “It’s really okay.”

He finally looks up at her, guilt swimming in his eyes.

“I just wanted to give you a nice first date,” his ears turn pink at the last two words, and Felicity can’t deny that they make her heart rate pick up. “The kind of first date you deserve, but I also don’t want to waste anymore time…”

“Okay, stop that,” she finally says, and it makes Oliver look up, “I don’t care about what we do, or what you think I _deserve_. Oliver, I just want to spend time with you.”

She grabs his hand, which started twisting with the other in his lap. It briefly occurs to her that this is probably something she can just do now.

But she’ll focus on that later.

Oliver smiles, swallowing just a little and nods.

Felicity notices then that throughout the course of their conversation the two of them had moved impossibly closer together. In fact, had it not been for the very crowded Great Hall around them, she might have even chanced another kiss.

“Okay,” he says quietly. He takes the moment to clear his throat and Felicity takes a bite of her toast and lets him collect himself, “I was thinking we could still go to Hogsmeade, I know this little bar on the far side of town that not a lot of people go to. How does that sound?”

Felicity smiles again.

“That sounds great.”

“Great,” Oliver says, the lightness in his voice finally returning, “’Cause there’s someone I really wanted you to meet.”

Felicity nearly chokes on her toast.

“Is that so?” she raises an eyebrow. “Should I be nervous?”

Oliver only shakes his head.

“Don’t be,” he pushes up off the bench, “I’ll meet you by the front after breakfast. And um… dress warmly. It’s a bit of a walk.”

He pauses halfway through getting up, masking a wince as he rises and pressing a quick kiss on Felicity’s cheek.

She tries to fight the smile that tugs on her lips as she watches him leave.

* * *

Oliver does indeed lead her far away from the busier side of Hogsmeade, to a less crowded part of the town. She bites back a comment on her tongue about him hiding her away, because she likes having the privacy.

Their conversation is sparse as he walks her towards a cozy looking bar with a simple gray and black sign on the front – _The Foundry_

Felicity notices the hours hanging from the door, and that they’re a little earlier than the opening time.

“I know the owner,” Oliver comments vaguely as he holds the door open for her.

The Foundry is a decent sized establishment. Warm, brown wood coats the floors, booths and tables are littered all over the area. The walls have old vintage posters -- she thinks one of them might even be from a movie her mom loves.

They find a pair of stools on the bar, and Oliver explains with an embarrassed expression that the booths that wrap around the walls of the pub are too low and would hurt his stomach.

As Oliver helps Felicity take her coat off, a voice calls out from the back.

“We don’t open for another half hour, kids, come back then.”                                                                    

The strong voice is matched with an equally, in Felicity’s opinion, strong figure. Her eyes widen as a tall man in a tight black shirt with, she has to admit, arms the size of her head comes into view.

Oliver seems unfazed.

“Oh, come on, I think you’ll make an exception for me, Diggle,” he says lightly.

The man – _Diggle_ – settles his hands against the bar and raises his eyebrows.

“Oliver Queen. Nice of you to finally grace me with your presence this year.”

Oliver rolls his eyes.

“Felicity, this is my friend John Diggle. Dig, this is Felicity Smoak.”

John finally looks Felicity’s way, giving her an amused look that she can’t read.

“Felicity,” he repeats with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Felicity says, bringing the sleeves of her sweater up her wrists uncomfortably. When Oliver said there was someone he wanted her to meet, she wasn’t sure what to expect, but looking at the deep brown eyes of this bar owner, she’s starting to get the impression that this meeting is far more significant than she had expected.

Oliver seems oblivious to her growing nerves.

“I met Dig at Hogwarts, but I’m not sure if you would have remembered him. See, I was this little shit in second year who thought that I deserved a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team just because I was, well, _me._ ”

John smiles from behind the bar and shakes his head as Oliver launches into the story.

“The whole team basically laughed in my face, but this fifth year named John Diggle made me believe that if I helped him I could get a spot on the team.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow in amusement.

“And?”

“And so, I was his equipment boy for _months_. I carried around his broom and gross practice uniform at 6 am thinking it would actually make a difference when really Dig just didn’t feel like doing any of that stuff.

“But despite all of that… we became friends. He’s kind of like the older brother I never had and helped me become less of a shit. And two years later, when I _did_ get an actual place on the team, I was John’s partner until he graduated.”

“After that I played professionally for a few years,” John picks up the story, “But apparently no one could be a partner like Oliver, I got an injury during a match that caused some permanent nerve damage and haven’t been able to play since.”

Felicity’s eyebrows knit together in sympathy.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

John shakes his head lightly.

“Don’t be,” he says simply. “I got to open this bar instead. Something a little different than the usual spots in Hogsmeade. Get to be near this guy.”

He gives Oliver a look.

Felicity can’t help but smile at the story. The two of them fall into an easy conversation after that, catching up on mutual friends whose names Felicity doesn’t recognize.

Finally, they order food – sliders and one butterbeer, just for Felicity because the drink is too heavy for Oliver these days – and John disappears behind a door once again.

“So that’s who you wanted me to meet?” Felicity asks.

“That’s who I wanted you to meet,” Oliver repeats with a smile. “After Tommy, Diggle is probably my closest friend.”

“And you brought me to him because…”

Oliver shrugs.

“Because I wanted you two to meet,” he says simply.  

He shifts his attention away to a stray menu on the counter, turning it between his fingers, and Felicity wonders - hopes - if there’s more to it than Oliver is saying.

Finally, he speaks again.

“After my father’s death,” he says quietly, “Everyone looked at me with either pity or suspicion. They either saw this poor hopeless boy who lost his father, or the prime suspect in the case, or like my father was a monster because he got caught up in dark magic before he died. No one wanted to look at me like I was just a kid trying to grieve. At home, I had to keep it together for the sake of my mom and Thea and I had no time to just… take it all in.”

His fingers find their way around hers.

“But then, you walked into my train cabin. And you were the first person who was just willing to… talk to me. Treat me like I was normal, make me feel like I _was_ normal for the first time in months. You didn’t see the worst in me, and I felt like I had more to offer after so long. It meant the world to me.”

When he finishes, Felicity doesn’t realize the effect his words have on her until she has to blink moisture away from her eyes. Their hands stay tangled on the bar as she searches for the right thing to say. There’s a thousand things that hang on the tip of her tongue – she wants to say that she doesn’t just see the best in him, but she sees what is already there, that he _does_ have so much to offer, that he’s done the same for her ….

But in that moment, the words feel insufficient. So she moves closer to him, until their knees brush together and all they do is smile.

John comes back out once more, giving the two a knowing smile when they break apart.

“So Felicity, how you liking the food?”

Felicity looks down at her plate, which is barely touched, and winces.

“It’s great,” she punctuates the sentiment with a quick bite and finds that _wow,_ she isn’t lying, this food is fantastic.

John just gives a wry grin.

“So, you seem smart,” he comments, “What’s a girl like you doing with Oliver anyway? Did he Imperius you?”

He leans his forearms against the bar.

Oliver laughs dryly.

“Very funny, Diggle.”  

Felicity laughs lightly.

“He’s not so bad,” she teases. “He’s actually… pretty special.”

Her eyes slide over to meet Oliver’s and he his lips twitch up once more.

John groans lightly

“Oh god, you two are worse than I thought.”

At his words, Oliver and Felicity immediately break apart and Felicity feels her cheeks go hot.

Oliver brings a hand to his plate and rolls a french fry between his finger.

“So, John, how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“My fiancée,” John corrects with a smile, “Is doing great.”

Oliver’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Fiancée?” he asks, “When did that happen?”

“This Christmas,” John declares proudly.

“Wow,” Oliver looks stunned, but he smiles anyway, “Congratulations, man.”  

John gives a light thank you.

Oliver leans forward a little bit, his smile disappearing, “Does Lyla still… work in the Ministry?”

John’s eyes narrow just a touch as he cautiously responds.

“Yes, why?”

Oliver hesitates, eyes flickering between Felicity and his old friend.

“I need answers.”

“What kind of answers?”

Oliver launches into a quick explanation of what happened over the holidays – his kidnapping, the Death Eaters, the fact that no one wants to believe him anymore.

“And right before I was taken,” Oliver reaches into his pocket and pauses, glancing at Felicity, “I was sent this.”

He unfolds a worn-out letter, with only three sentences written in clean ink.

_You aren’t safe, not even in your school._

_Neither is your sister, or your little blonde friend._

_Sometimes, the devils are inside the walls._

Felicity looks at him with wide eyes.

“When did you –?”

“I never told you,” Oliver admits, looking ashamed. “I should have, but I didn’t. It was a few weeks before Christmas. And it scared me, and I pushed you away. I shouldn’t have. I learned that the hard way.” 

He turns his attention back to John.

“I showed Waller this but she couldn’t get much from it. I trust you, John,” he finally says, breathless and worked up from recounting the past few confusing months, “And not a lot of people want to trust me these days.”

The plea that goes unsaid hangs between them.

“I’ll see what I can get you, Oliver,” John says cautiously, looking between the couple, “But it sounds you should really be staying out of trouble, not seeking it out.”

“Oh John,” Felicity finally speaks, curling an arm around Oliver, “Can’t you tell? Trouble has its way of finding him these days.”

"You’re not wrong.”

John shares a grin with Felicity.

Beside them, Oliver groans something about being teamed up on.

* * *

It’s a mostly quiet walk back to Hogwarts. Oliver and Felicity walk hand in hand, unconsciously moving closer when the wind would pick up.

“I’m sorry that wasn’t exactly the best first date conversation,” Oliver says quietly. “But I wasn’t sure when I’d get a chance to see Diggle again and I didn’t want to write it in a letter.”

“Oliver, it’s fine,” Felicity says, hand tightening in his, “I had a nice time. I liked meeting John.”

He smiles at her, and they pause on a bridge overlooking a frozen river.

“So would you,” he puffs out a breath, and it comes out like a cloud in front of his face. “Would you be up for a second date?”

“Oliver,” Felicity grins, “I would be up for as many dates as you’d take me on, how’s that?”

Oliver smiles, instead choosing to respond by leaning in and brushing a kiss against her lips that makes her toes curl in her boots.

“Sounds good,” he whispers when they finally break apart.

She looks down the bridge again and frowns.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. I’m cold and being on this is freaking me out.”

Oliver chuckles.

“What?”

She shrugs defensively.

“Just… being up on the bridge, looking all the way down, it’s freaking me out.”

“You’re scared of heights?”

“Well not so much scared of heights as I am of falling,” she crosses her arms defensively.

“I thought that’s what the main concern was for most people,” he deadpans. She gives him a look, but he ignores it as he continues, “You don’t have to worry too much. That’s the nice part about being wizards, if you fell, I’d have a way to catch you,”

He says it with a wink.

“Is that so?”

“Always.”

Felicity raises her eyebrows at his mock-serious tone.

“Well, let’s hope I never have to find out.”

“Hmm,” Oliver responds, takes in her chattering teeth and pushes off the rail of the bridge, “Come on, let’s get you out of this cold.”

They walk back up to Hogwarts hand in hand, exchanging light conversation. Oliver leads her back to the Ravenclaw common room and pauses at the door.

She leans on the wall, watching him questioningly as he looks into the empty hallway side to side.

Eventually, when he is satisfied he brings an arm up and his hand lands next to her head on the wall.

He leans down with a small smile, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that makes Felicity glad she has the wall to support her. He tugs slightly at her bottom lip, hand falling to cup her cheek and bringing her closer.

Then, all too soon, it’s over, and he’s pulling back with a wide grin.

“Felicity?” he whispers. She thinks she just gives a dazed sigh in response, and she feels his chest shake in silent laughter. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nods, still trying to restart her brain and calibrate the part where words find her mouth. He gives a final squeeze of her hand before walking off – maybe with a little more bounce in his step than usual.

She gets up to her room and dresses for the night in silence, fighting a grin the entire time, and wonders if she’d ever felt this wholly _happy_ before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! next week: they (and you) /finally/ start getting some answers 
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	12. Darhkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the truth isn't pleasant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again and thank you for all your kind words last chapter as always. This chapter is an important one. It has some of the answers I promised last week, and a fair amount of info to process. Also, if you’re someone who isn’t too familiar with Harry Potter stuff but read this little au of mine anyway (I see you and I love you), some of this stuff gets really wizard-world-heavy.

If you’d ask Oliver Queen a year ago what exactly he’d feel like in a relationship, he wouldn’t have an answer.

Oliver Queen of a year ago didn’t exactly do relationships.                                                                   

Oh, he’d tried, but he found that they weren’t as fulfilling as he’d imagined. He would lay on the charm, girls would respond, but in the end the whole thing left him feeling empty inside.

Oliver Queen of a few months ago, caught up in the grief of a dead father and the misery of caring for his mother and sister, would not have thought any relationships were in his immediate future.

The Oliver Queen who discovered his father’s body, who screamed for his mother until his throat went hoarse, who had to watch a tomb be lowered into the ground and hold a broken-hearted thirteen year old together did not think he would be able to feel happy again.

Luckily, that Oliver Queen was wrong.

Today, he knows exactly what he had been missing all those years. He knows that no relationship had been entirely fulfilling because none of them had been _her._

Being with Felicity is like flying on the Quidditch pitch.

It’s unreal, it makes his insides feel light. It’s exhilarating and and dizzying.

But most of all, it makes him feel so perfectly, completely, absolutely _happy_ for the first time in a long time.

So happy, that the first month of their relationship seemed to fly by in a daze of bright colours, and laughter, and feeling carefree for the first time in months.

He spent Valentine’s Day doing honest to god _relationship stuff_. And he liked it.

He calls himself Felicity Smoak’s boyfriend (with a smug smile on his face) any chance he gets – the words are a privilege in his mouth and he intends to exercise that any chance he can get. It drives Felicity crazy, but honestly the way Oliver feels when she turns pink at the words is addictive.

So, yeah, things have been good for Oliver Queen lately.

Today, he’s spending a rare afternoon away from Felicity. She’s in the library with Dinah (“I feel like we’ve barely had time for each other this year, so I’m trying to change that,” she had said with a determined frown over breakfast) And he was not going to argue, choosing instead to pore over strategy with his seeker, Barry, for an upcoming Quidditch match over lunch.

When Barry walks off, the empty space next to Oliver is quickly replaced with another familiar figure.

“Tommy,” Oliver says warily, looking at the shit-eating grin on his friend’s face and bracing herself.

“Hey, Ollie,” Tommy says lightly, “Nice to see you alone for once.”

Oliver tries hard not to roll his eyes.

“Just say it,” Oliver sighs, hiding the parchment with his Quidditch plans (best friend or not, Tommy is still the enemy when it comes to the sport).

“I knew it!” Tommy says, raising his index finger upwards gleefully, “I knew there was something going on between you and Felicity Smoak.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver mumbles, “Took you a month to resist gloating, I’m proud of you.”

Tommy laughs.

“I tried. But seriously, I’m happy for you. I don’t think I’ve seen you this smiley. It’s all anyone can talk about these days.”

Oliver frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of people talking about him, or his relationship with Felicity, but he figures it was kind of inevitable.

Tommy reads his expression right away.

“Don’t sweat everyone else, Ollie,” he says easily, “You guys are inseparable, and honestly it was pretty obvious this would happen all year.”

Oliver still doesn’t say anything, giving a small smile at the thought. He likes the idea that they are an inevitability.

“So,” Tommy cranes his neck, looking around the Great Hall, “When do I get to properly meet your girl? I think I only got to talk to her for like a second on the train. I want to see what it is that’s got you all charmed.”

“She’s with her friend today, you know Dinah Drake?” Oliver asks, and Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat and shrugs.

“I’ve heard of her. So, that’s a no-go on meeting the future Mrs. Queen today?”

Oliver finds himself suddenly choking over his pumpkin juice.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Anyway, don’t worry, you guys will be able to meet eventually.”

“Good,” Tommy says, clearly satisfied with himself. His eyes travel over to a girl sitting on the Slytherin table and throws her a smile, “Now that we got that sorted I’ll uh… I’ll see you later buddy.”

With a clap on Oliver’s back, Tommy rises from the table to saunter over to his own house’s.

As he leaves, an owl flies to Oliver’s plate. He hesitates, given that it doesn’t look like the distinguished white owl that his mother usually sends letters from – and the last letter he got from an unfamiliar sender didn’t end well.  

He turns the letter over hesitantly, but at the sight of a familiar handwriting on the envelope he sighs in relief. It’s from Diggle.

The letter inside is short:

_Oliver –_

_I got the answers you needed. You and Felicity should come down to_ The Foundry _as soon as you can._

_Diggle._

Oliver reads it over once. Diggle is rarely this curt, but if he truly found something out it would make sense that he didn’t want to write it down in a letter anyone could read.

Damn, Oliver would need to find Felicity soon. There weren’t any official Hogsmeade weekends coming up, but seventh year students had generally freer reign to go off campus in recent years. He wonders if he would be able to stretch that privilege to Felicity.

Regretfully, Oliver abandoned his meal to set off and find Felicity. She had a test on Monday, he could already hear the protests she would give him on the missed studying time.

* * *

When they arrive at The Foundry Sunday morning, Oliver and Felicity once more ignore the closed sign hanging on the door and push through it easily. Diggle’s expecting them when they come in, waiting behind the bar with a grim expression on his face.

He raises an arm as they entered, silently suggesting they move their conversation to his office just in case.

It was strange, in all his years of friendship and patronage at The Foundry, Oliver had never been in Dig’s office before. It’s a cozy space, not unlike the décor in the bar, all dark wood and retro art on the walls. Dig seats himself behind the desk and gestures that the two be seated in the chairs on the other side.

It’s an odd arrangement, to see his friend with a desk between them makes it feel less personal, but Oliver pushes down the feeling.

“Alright,” Diggle points his wand to a drawer, pulling out a file after it slides open, “My fiancée Lyla got these answers for me. She risked a lot by getting me this file, but it has pictures and solid facts that the Ministry has tried to keep locked down for over twenty years.”

Felicity raises her eyebrows at the words, bringing her elbows up to the table and leaning forward.

“What exactly does Lyla… do in the Ministry?” she asks curiously.

Diggle smiles, and Oliver mirrors the expression. He’d try to get an answer on this a year ago with little success.

“Lyla works as a part of the Auror’s office, but she isn’t strictly an Auror. It’s uh… a little more complicated than that. They’re called the ARGUS department.”

“ARGUS?” Felicity presses.

Diggle clears his throat and pushes the file forward. There’s the Ministry crest on the front page.

“Another time, maybe,” he says lightly, though it’s obvious it isn’t something he’ll explain soon. “Let’s talk about this for now. So, the first thing is, Oliver, you were right when you said you were taken by Death Eaters.”

“Really,” Oliver says flatly, “Because the Aurors kept insisting that I had been taken for money –”

“That’s what the Aurors want you to believe,” Diggle says with a grim expression. “It’s the same reason they wouldn’t accept why dark magic was involved in your father’s death. After twenty years of peace, the last thing they want is to admit that Death Eaters are at large again, much less snatching children up from Hogwarts. It’ll bring panic, it might mobilize people to the other side, it makes the Ministry look like a failure.”

“That’s so stupid,” Oliver starts, leaning forward in his chair so much that he almost jumps off, “They shouldn’t be ignoring the problem.”

“They haven’t been ignoring it, or at least, ARGUS hasn’t.” Diggle flips the file open. On the first page sits a weathered photograph, of a wizard in clean black robes and white blonde hair moving confidently through an area Oliver vaguely recognizes as Muggle London.

“They’ve been worried for some time about this man right here. Damien Darhk. From what I know, he was Voldemort’s right hand, knew everything about him, first in everything he did. Like a lot of Death Eaters, he was presumed dead in the Battle of Hogwarts.”

“Darhk…” Oliver whispers, staring at the moving image in front of him. He repeats the name a few times in his head, as if trying to search for any signs of familiarity. Finally, it hit him.

“When I was taken,” he looks up with widened eyes, “They kept asking me what I knew about _the dark plan_. I thought they meant something about dark magic. I was so disoriented, it didn’t make sense at the time. I didn’t think it was important. What if they meant him – Damien Darhk?”

Diggle nodded.

“That would make a lot of sense.”

“Wait,” Felicity raised a hand, “That doesn’t make sense. Why was he presumed dead?”

A knowing look returned to Diggle’s eye.

“A lot of Death Eaters fled when it became apparent that their side wouldn’t come out of the war as winners. A lot went into hiding. The Ministry went looking for a lot of them, considering that a lot of these guys had rap sheets that had some pretty serious offenses. But a few months after the war, they were really focused on presenting a peaceful society. They didn’t want to give anyone reason to believe that another war that horrific could ever happen again. So, anyone who wasn’t found was presumed dead.”

Felicity’s eyebrows sit high in her hairline.

“That’s…”

“Horrible? Irresponsible? Short sighted?”

“Yeah.”

Diggle nods and flips over the photograph to reveal what seemed to be a Ministry report dated a few years ago.

“They started looking into it in recent years because… Well, there’s been a startling undercurrent of the same ideals Voldemort preached. It is, in the simplest form, bigotry. The same old story – blood purity, pure blooded wizards being of superior race and Muggles being filthy, the whole thing. After the war, no one advertised if they felt that way – no one wanted to be locked up for being a Death Eater. But now, almost twenty years later, people are starting to feel a little more comfortable with it. A lot of it is stuff that seems harmless at first glance. Little things here and there to assert pure blooded dominance.”

Felicity nods knowingly, a hard look in her eyes.

“Like calling someone a Mudblood in the middle of the street,” she says. Oliver takes her hand under the table and squeezes gently. He knows that day in Hogsmeade, Felicity had tried to calm him down more, and hid how much the words actually affected her.

“Something like that,” Diggle nods. He flips over to another photograph, taken in what Oliver recognizes is the Ministry of Magic, where Darhk stands proudly to the side. The date in the corner reveals this was taken in 1997.

“So, what do you think all of this has to do with my father’s death?”

Diggle rubs a hand over his mouth and hesitates.

“I think, if these Death Eaters really are rising again, they need more people. They wanted your father – your family has money, influence, not to mention –”

Diggle flips another page over. This one features a larger group of Death Eaters next to Darhk. Oliver recognizes some of the sneering faces from history books, but one face in particular stands out. Next to him, Felicity leans over to get a better look.

“Oh my god,” Oliver’s eyebrows furrow, “Is That Malcolm Merlyn? Tommy’s dad?”

“It is,” Diggle says, “He’s said to be clean now, went through a trial with the Ministry and put a lot of effort in erasing any of his ties to dark magic after the war ended, but that doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Felicity tenses next to him, turning the photograph over and tracing the edges.

Oliver sighs.

“That’s crazy. I wonder if Tommy –”

“John, do you have the names for all the people in this photo?” Felicity cuts him off, her voice sounding oddly caught, “Like, maybe this one?”

She points to a frowning man in the corner with dark hair, tall, slender, and utterly unfamiliar to Oliver.

"Oh yeah," John nods, “This one’s Noah Kuttler. From what I heard, Voldemort kept him around because he was wicked smart, this genius in charms and brewing potions to help Death Eaters disguise themselves. Really talented in Legilimency, too – he could read minds like it was _The Daily Prophet_ and got a lot of information out of some powerful Ministry folk. He was one of the many that was presumed dead when Voldemort died.”

Felicity grows more tense as John speaks, her eyes never wavering from the photograph.

“Felicity,” Oliver finally says, “Is something wrong?”

She lets out a long breath. A loose lock of hair that had fallen in her face flies gently as she does.

“That man in the photo… that’s my father,” she finally says. She shakes her head a few times, “I’m sorry. I just… I need some air. I – yeah. Thank you for all this John.”

Before either can say anything, Felicity is flying out of her chair and the office, the door swinging gently as she does. Oliver watches the empty frame blankly.

“You should go find her,” Diggle says, but Oliver’s already pushing himself out of his seat.

Oliver doesn’t know a lot about Felicity’s history with her father. He knows the man left when she was young, and that she didn’t know too much about him, but that she’s always been mostly okay with it.

He can’t begin to imagine what it would feel like to find out your absentee father was a Death Eater.

When Oliver finds her, she’s seated on a bench in front of a pond in Hogsmeade Park. It’s not a particularly nice day to be outdoors. It rained all morning, and now gray clouds hang low in the sky. Felicity sits on the damp wood, watching the ripples in the water carefully.

Oliver approaches hesitantly, wondering for the first time if she would have liked to be left alone.

Her arms are bound tightly around herself, the tip of her nose is red, and Oliver doubts that these things can be attributed to the cold weather.

“Hey,” he says gently as he approaches. She doesn’t look up, but he can see her arms tighten.

He takes a chance and sits down next to her, trying to find the words to say.

He decides to wait for her to speak first.

“All my life,” she eventually says, “I wanted answers. I wanted to know who my father was, why he left, how much of him was in me. My mom used to tell me that he was smart, any time I did well in school she said it was thanks to him. She used to say we were a lot alike; always reading, always problem solving. I _loved_ hearing it. I was young, probably around eight or nine, I didn’t know any better. Back then, he wasn’t the guy who left us, he was this mysterious figure. I hoped one day he would come back, be my hero or something.”

She shakes her head with a bitter laugh.

“Obviously, that hero worship thing went away, but I still wanted answers,” she throws a hand in the air meekly, “And now… I know. I know why I was put here, in this school across the ocean from my home, from my mom. I know why I’m a genius. I finally understand…. All of it. And I wish I didn’t.

“Everything I know about myself, I owe it to him. This… this monster. Who tormented people, broke families apart, killed, who knows what else. And in all of this, the only thing I can wonder is… if he is some kind of monster,” she finally looks towards him, eyes shining in unshed tears. “ _God,_ Oliver, what would that make me?”

Her face finally crumples, like the dam she had so carefully tried to keep together erupted, and Oliver reacts instantly, bringing his arms around her and pulling her head down on his chest.

He runs his thumb up and down Felicity’s head soothingly, trying to find the right words to say. He’s never seen her like this, so small, so hurt. He can feel the ten-or-so years of confusion and unresolved issues with her father finally coming apart under his hands and feeling utterly useless to stop it.

“You are not a monster, and you do _not_ owe everything to him,” he finally says, “He doesn’t get all the hard work you’ve put in. Those late nights in the library, early morning meetings with professors, giving up lunch time to tutor other kids, that’s all you, not him. He doesn’t get the girl who waited outside my common room for _hours_ just to see if I was okay when my mom was in the hospital.”

He can feel her shudder against him and his arms tighten.

“He doesn’t get your strength, your compassion, your kindness. Felicity, you are _not_ him. You’re so much more than that.”

She doesn’t respond, just curling her fingers tighter into his shirt. He brushes a kiss on her forehead before resting his chin on her hair.

They stay like that until her tears go dry, and her breathing evens out. Oliver doesn’t say anything, but waits with a soothing hand going up and down her back. Eventually, she lifts her head and offers him a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her glassy eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“Always.”

* * *

After some odd minutes, Oliver and Felicity find themselves walking back into The Foundry. Oliver tried to get Felicity back to the castle, but she insisted that she was okay and that Diggle had more to tell them.

So, he holds her hand tightly and doesn’t comment when she runs a hand over her red eyes in the mirror they pass.

Diggle, being Diggle, doesn’t comment on her abrupt exit, but instead continues on. Oliver can tell from the way Felicity relaxes slightly into her chair that she is grateful for it.

“There’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Diggle says, “That letter you showed me, it got me thinking about what it could mean.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Oliver says dryly, “They warned me I wasn’t safe at school, and a few weeks later I was taken from my own room.”

“But you had to be taken from there somehow. The words are right there, ‘the devils are inside the walls.’”

“Someone in the school is working with the Death Eaters,” Felicity finishes.

Diggle nods grimly.

“So… what, it has to be a teacher, right?” Oliver says, “It would make sense. Most students go home for the Holidays but every teacher stays in the castle.”

“That’s what I think. Someone with enough power to make things like have a student disappear. Do you think you’d be able to get me a list of all the staff? I’d be able to run it through to Lyla.”

Oliver and Felicity nod.

“So… if all these Death Eaters are … what, mobilizing? How are they even able to do that? If half of them are presumed dead, how are they flying under the Ministry radar?” Felicity asks.

“I have a working theory that they’re meeting in parts of Muggle towns, where the Ministry isn’t looking as closely. Any kind of trouble there is chalked up to being Muggle crime.” Diggle flips over to another page, outlining a map, “In Muggle London, there’s a place where a lot of lowlife wizards are known to hang out, get their laughs by preying on the weak, that kind of thing. They call it The Glades. Dollars to donuts, if Darhk wants to mobilize people, he’s doing it there.”

“A place where dark wizards can easily group together and cause trouble?” Oliver asks. “And the Ministry doesn’t know about this?”

Diggle raises an eyebrow.

“Right,” Oliver sighs, “They know, they just don’t want to look too closely.”

“You’ll soon learn, Oliver,” Diggle says with a dark smile, “That is probably the answer to a lot of things.”

“Right,” Oliver lets out a breath and leans back in his chair. Felicity mirrors the action, both of them exchange glances.

He suddenly feels very uneasy about returning to the castle they’ve called home for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	13. Teenage Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where nothing happens. Seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… this chapter wasn’t in The Original Plan, which I’ve always kept v important to me, but I felt like this little interlude from the plot heavy stuff was necessary before we move into the second half of this story. Enjoy!

Felicity has always loved Potions. It’s probably her favourite class.

It can be partially credited to her natural ability to the subject. Potions is methodical, it always makes sense, and there’s something satisfying about seeing the product of her effort in front of her.

… And it can be partially credited to getting to spend an extra hour in the day with her older boyfriend, she admits.

She’s only human.

Today, she’s not feeling so warm to the subject. Or to the boyfriend in question, for that matter.

It started out harmless enough. Professor Macmillan walked in and happily declared that everyone should pair up, and Oliver looked at Felicity without another thought.

When Macmillan asked them to clear their desks of their textbooks, she didn’t feel nervous. When he waved his wand and made a set of instructions for a Draught of Peace appear with a five minute timer, she still didn’t feel nervous.

However, Macmillan’s final words, “And the pair that manages to make the best potion from memory will earn a vial for themselves to use, made by me,” did make Felicity sit up straighter in her seat.

The idea is that each pair has five minutes to study the instructions before creating the potion from memory. It’s meant to be exam preparation and test working under pressure, but putting them in pairs would make it just a little easier.

The Draught itself is complicated, with nearly twenty very specific steps to memorize. Any mistake means having to start over, but Macmillan is clear that they only have twenty minutes to present this potion to him, which would leave no time for error.

Now, not that Felicity has a big ego or anything, but she had kind of assumed Oliver would let her take the reins on this one.

He doesn’t.

It’s kind of nice, she supposes, that he doesn’t pair up with his smart girlfriend and assume she’ll do all the work, but eventually they reach their boiling point.

She’s about to reach in to stir the Draught when Oliver grabs her wrist.

“Felicity,” he says with a slightly crazed look in his eye, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Felicity looks at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m about to stir it…? Seven times, clockwise and counter-clockwise, like the instructions said.”

“I know what the instructions said,” he bites out, “But you’re not supposed to stir yet, you haven’t added the moonstone powder in.”

Felicity tries hard not to make _a face,_ she really does, but she can’t help herself.

“I know I haven’t added it yet, Oliver, that doesn’t come until later.”

“No,” he presses, pausing to run a hand through his hair. The ends start to stick up in odd directions, “We’re on step eight, right? You don’t stir until step nine. I remember this.”

Felicity has to press her lips together. _Is he seriously arguing with her right now?_  

“No, honey, I’m _positive_ we’re supposed to stir right now, seven and seven until the potion turns orange.”

Oliver looks down at their cauldron, where a red liquid swirls around.

“First of all, it’s going to turn pink,” he pinches the bridge of his nose, “ _After_ you add the powder, you stir, and it’ll go from red to pink.”

Felicity puts her hand on the table with perhaps a little more force than necessary, because makes a few heads turn their way.

“Oliver,” she says quietly, her teeth gritted tight, “Trust me on this, it’s orange. Moonstone is later.”

“You know, I know stuff too,” Oliver starts to say, his voice still carrying its normal volume and drawing more eyes in their direction. Even Professor Macmillan looks over, and Felicity feels strangely mortified. “I know you’re smart, and you definitely know way more than me, but sometimes I can be right too.”

 _God,_ why is this happening to her right now? She feels the attention growing and the whispers starting about Hogwarts’ new golden couple already having problems. And if anyone is close enough to hear their argument – which, she suspects from the eager look on some faces, some are – she’ll be pegged as the biggest bitch if she doesn’t listen to Oliver.

So, Felicity does what any person would do. She takes a breath, looks at her potion, silently kisses that grade goodbye, and smiles at Oliver.

“You know what,” she says, “Maybe you’re right. Throw the moonstone in, see what happens.”

He does, looking surprised that he won that argument as quickly as he did. She lets him stir the potion – seven and seven, thank god, he doesn’t argue too much with her on that – and both peer into their cauldron cautiously.

It doesn’t turn orange, or even pink. With a strange satisfaction, Felicity watches as the liquid turns a horrible, murky gray colour.

She looks up at Oliver, who doesn’t look adequately ashamed enough, in her opinion, and raises an eyebrow.

“You were saying?”

* * *

Oliver makes up for it by apologizing all the way to the library.

(He also carries her books, and gets her coffee out of the kitchens that they aren’t supposed to serve students. He’s working his way into her good graces slowly)

They find her usual spot, tucked into a quiet corner where the obnoxious first years can’t disturb them.

“Don’t be sorry,” she says as he drops their books on the desk, “Be _ready_ to accept the fact that I am always right.”

She throws him a smile, and he rolls his eyes.

“I mess up once. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

Felicity pretends to think for a minute and shakes her head.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it too much, Oliver,” she pulls her potions book open, “Be more worried about this report I can’t _believe_ you haven’t started on yet. It’s due the end of this week and I know with your Quidditch match on Saturday you’re going to be way too busy with practice to work on it.”

She feels oddly out of breath by the time she’s finished speaking. Oliver tilts his head, the corner of his mouth lifting up.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, “You’re just really cute when you worry.”

She rolls her eyes at his words, but her burning cheeks give her away.

“Oh, shut up,” she says when he chuckles, “You really do need to focus if you want to do well, which I know you do.”

“I think I’m doing pretty well for myself right now,” he says in a low voice, bringing his nose down the side of her face.

“Oh my god,” Felicity pushes gently at his shoulder, trying to ignore how distracting his skin on hers feels, “Don’t tell me lines like that have actually worked before.”

“Wouldn’t know,” Oliver says casually, “I’ve never tried.”

Felicity snorts.

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, Felicity,” his hand finds its way into hers, “That wasn’t a line.”

She finally manages to look up at him, and she has to pull back. The way he looks at her sometimes is dizzying, no one has ever been quite so sincere or open in their affection to her before. It scares a part of her, like she should be on guard for another shoe to drop or run away before it backfires on her.

She pushes that part down, and instead follows the _other_ side that wants her to kiss her boyfriend silly in the back of this library like some kind of weird nerd-fantasy she’s always had.

When she pulls away just a few short seconds later, Oliver’s eyes flutter open and he wears a frown. She answers by sliding the Potions book in his direction, and pointing her index finger at it determinately.

“Work _now_.”  

Oliver pulls back with a smirk on his face, looking taken aback at her tone.

“Yes ma’am.”

* * *

That day turns out to be the last that Oliver and Felicity are able to see each other for the rest of the week – Oliver is running Quidditch practices in preparation for the big match and, given the approach into spring, Felicity is tutoring more and more kids, while also trying to balance her own schedule as well.

Even their next Potions class ends up being a lecture rather than a practical class, which means Oliver is reduced to enjoying Felicity’s shoulder against his while Professor Macmillan drones on about the importance of stirring techniques for an hour.

And, well, Oliver enjoys her shoulder a whole lot, but it’s not quite what he had in mind when he wanted quality time with his girlfriend.

By Thursday they’re down to quick waves in the hallway in between classes and one memorable breakfast where Felicity almost fell asleep on Oliver’s croissant.

In between all of that, Oliver knows they’re both holding out for any word from Diggle, eyeing their professors warily and scanning _The Daily Prophet_ for any suspicious activity that may have found its way into the news.

It’s been kind of a busy week.

It’s why on Friday afternoon, Oliver seeks Felicity out in her usual spot in the library.

“Come on, you’ve studied enough. It’s the weekend,” he picks her quill out of her hand, knowing full well that’s asking for trouble with Felicity. Unsurprisingly, she looks up at him with wide eyes, mouth open ready to shout in protest.

“Ah,” he holds a hand up, “You’re in a library, honey, no yelling.”

“Oliver,” Felicity shout-whispers, “What are you doing, I have to get this done by tomorrow morning.”

Oliver tries not to laugh.

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, you can’t possibly have anything due on the weekend.”

“Well if I’m going to _your_ stupid Quidditch match tomorrow,” she grumbles, “I need to have this done to make up for the time I’ll miss.”

“Your support is truly heart warming,” Oliver comments dryly, “But I’m serious, it’s been a long week, I know you well enough to know that at this point you’ve probably only got a few lines done in the past hour. So, come down to dinner with your boyfriend who’s missed you a lot this week.”

Finally, her features soften.

“I did miss you too.”

“Of course you did,” he says lightly, and she lets out a laugh loud enough to be given a pointed _shhh!_ from the librarian, “Let’s get out of here.”

They walk down to the Great Hall a little earlier than dinner is usually served, which means they enjoy a mostly empty Gryffindor bench.

“You look tired,” Oliver comments as they sit down.

“Such a charming boyfriend,” Felicity jokes as she rubs a hand over her face. “No, you’re right. I’m exhausted. I don’t know what’s been going on with me this week, I forgot about two assignments I had and pulled all nighters to get them in on time.”

“We’ve had a lot going on,” Oliver says, rubbing a soothing hand on her leg. He knows what Felicity isn’t naming that’s been weighing down on her – the revelation in The Foundry last Sunday on her father really hit Felicity deeper than she was willing to reveal.

She only nods, propping her elbows on the table and using her hands to balance her head.

“Yeah, I could really use a –”

“Oliver!” a voice cuts her off. Oliver turns to see Barry approaching. Internally, Oliver sighs. Barry has that look in his eye that Oliver knows from experience means he’s in for a long conversation.

“Yes Barry,” Oliver says patiently, trying not to grimace when the younger boy sits down next to him.

“You really aren’t going to hold practice today?”

Oliver tries not to roll his eyes.

“We’ve held two hour practices every day this week, Barry. I’m not burning the team out the night before the match, and risk something like an injury.”

“Right, right,” Barry nods, “Of course. That’s why you’re the captain.”

Oliver tries to ignore the bitterness in the kid’s voice, as though he isn’t just a fourth year and as though Oliver hasn’t earned his leadership role.

“But did you hear it’s going to rain tomorrow?”

Oliver bites the inside of his cheek. This is not the first time he’s been made aware of the forecast.

“It’s been raining all week, Barry. Kind of hard to ignore.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“Lucky for you the snitch is golden. Should stick out in all the gray,” Oliver says shortly.

“Right,” Barry nods again, a sharp jerky movement that always makes his black hair move in the air. His eyes travel to behind Oliver and his eyes light up knowingly.

“I’m Barry Allen,” he says, painting a smile that Oliver can only best describe as goofy, “You must be Felicity Smoak, I’ve heard _so_ much about you.”

Oliver turns his attention back to Felicity, who is smiling at him expectantly.

“Oh?”

“Wouldn’t have been from me,” he says quickly, but then he blinks, “I mean, not that I _don’t_ talk about you – I’m not ashamed of you or anything – but Barry’s just being a little shit.”

Felicity only grins.

“Usually the rambling is my thing,” she says, and tilts her head slightly, “Nice to meet you, Barry. Nervous about the match tomorrow?”

Barry laughs.

“You caught that, huh? I just really want to win. I have this friend in Ravenclaw, Cisco, he’s not on the team but we have a bet going and I’d really like to –”

 _Fascinating_ as this conversation is, Oliver finds himself tuning out as Barry explains the details around some wager he’s been hearing about for weeks. He watches as students trickle in and teachers begin to take their places by the front. He scans the line of professors once, twice, and doesn’t see anyone he can honestly imagine being capable of dark magic, and eventually he stops looking.

To Oliver’s immense regret, Barry ends up staying for the duration of dinner, making conversation with Felicity and occasionally bothering Oliver with the same few questions he’s asked him all week.

Felicity senses his annoyance and her smile only grows, patiently answering Barry’s question on her opinion of the newest Broomsticks (a topic Oliver knows is one of the few Felicity knows little about, yet she’s still somehow adequately equipped to carry conversation on it, ‘cause she’s remarkable that way).

When Felicity finishes the last of her pasta, Oliver practically lifts her out of her seat, throwing an arm around her as he stands and half heartedly shouting “Bye, Barry,” over his shoulder as he walks away.

He makes a quick turn as they exit the Great Hall, down to the direction of the third floor.

“Um, Oliver, my common room is the other way,” Felicity says.

“I know that,” he says, “But I’ll be damned if Barry somehow finds us again and gets you in a twenty minute long discussion on the _Harry Potter and friends_ graphic novelization or something.”

Felicity chuckles, but the sound is a little nervous.

“That’s all well and good, but where are we going?”

Oliver stops outside the Trophy Room, where a large plaque sits on the wall next to the door.

It’s a relatively new addition when compared to all the others around the school.

_In loving memory of the brave witches, wizards, house-elves, centaurs and other magical creatures who bravely fought against Lord Voldemort and laid their lives on the line_

_May 2, 1998_

_Ubi concordia, ibi victoria_

_Where there is unity, there is victory_

Underneath, names of the deceased are engraved in gold.

Oliver traces the edge once, twice, until it swings open. Beside him, Felicity gasps.

He tries not to smirk.

“We’re getting some privacy,” he answers as he slips through the dark hole, lighting his wand as he does.

Felicity hangs back.

“What is this?”

“It’s a passageway,” Oliver answers simply.

“I thought all the passageways in the Castle had been found and closed up since Harry Potter finished school.”

Oliver grins.

“Someone made new ones, what can I say? Tommy and I found it in fifth year, but we don’t use it too much in case it gets discovered.”

“Where does it lead?”

“It’s kind of long, but if you go all the way to the end it leads to Hogsmeade, more specifically to a road right next to The Foundry.”

Felicity raises an eyebrow.

“How convenient.”

“It’ll give us some privacy,” Oliver points out, “Something we’ve been lacking today,”

Felicity looks around the dark space her lit wand trailing over the dusty floors,

“Yeah, it’s totally romantic.”

Oliver conjures a blanket and gestures for her to sit on it. They settle in immediately, her head finding a place on his shoulder and their hands intertwining.

“How was your day?”

“Fine,” she yawns, “A little annoying, this second year I was supposed to tutor during lunch only showed up in the last twenty minutes, so I wasted my time waiting for him and didn’t get to eat.”

Oliver frowns.

“That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, when I see that little shit again I’m going to really drag out the session for no reason, just to waste his time.”

Oliver laughs, his chest shaking Felicity’s head.

“Other than that,” she sighs, tracing a pattern on Oliver’s shirt, “I was annoyed during my History of Magic lesson because we were talking about the Second War and some people tried to argue that that ‘both sides had their faults.’”

Oliver rolls his eyes, having remembered the same discussion last year.

“Yeah. Professor Morrison is big on having students debate ‘all sides of the issue’, so he encourages it.”

“It was stupid,” Felicity says, “As if Harry Potter being his Headmaster’s favourite even begins to compare with what Voldemort did.”

She breaks off to shake her head.

“Let’s not talk about that right now.”

“Right,” Felicity shifts so she can be closer to Oliver, if at all possible, “I got a letter from my mom today. She sent me all the important updates on my favourite tv shows and this movie coming out soon.”

“I’m sorry, on your _what?_ ”

“On my tv sho—oh come _on,_ Oliver, don’t tell me you never took Muggle Studies.”

She cranes her head up to look at him and Oliver shakes his head sheepishly.

“Much you learn, you still have,” she says in a strange voice.

“Why are you talking like that,” Oliver’s eyebrows knit, “Are you feeling okay?”

Felicity lets out a loud laugh that echoes around the space, “I feel fine, it’s just a reference. I can’t believe you don’t know anything about Muggle pop culture. That’s so strange to me.”

“Yet another subject you beat me in,” he nudges gently.

“Hmm,” she stops craning her head and lets it fall back on his shoulder, “I guess I’ll have to show you all the best movies and up your knowledge. Of course, it’ll have to be when school’s done since it’s _impossible_ to get any technology to work in Hogwarts – believe me, I’ve tried.”

Oliver lets her ramble on more about technology – whatever that is – and instead smiles at the implication she seems to have missed, that whatever it is they have together is going to last until school is done.

It brings an uninvited thought into his brain, like what he would do when he graduated this year and Felicity still had one more left, but he pushes it away.

“Anyway. We’ll up your tv knowledge another time. How’s the Quidditch prep been going? Sounds like you’ve got Barry worried.”

Oliver rolls his eyes.

“Barry talks a lot. It’ll be fine, but we just need to win this one if we want to play Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup.”

“Mhmm,” Felicity shifts against him again, and he wonders if the floor really is too uncomfortable for her before she resumes tracing her patterns down his arm, “I wonder if I should even be cheering for you guys tomorrow. You know, I take a lot of pride in Ravenclaw.”

Oliver chuckles.

“You never went to a single Quidditch game before you met me.”

“Yeah, you totally got me hooked,” she says dryly, “But what can I say? I’m too loyal to the blue and bronze.”

“Well then, I know for a fact your house hasn’t been practicing as much as us so I hope you enjoy losing,” Oliver comments lightly.

She pokes his chest.

“I’m only kidding. I heard Gryffindor has a cute team captain. I’ll cheer for him.”

Oliver tries not to smile too wide.

“Practice has been okay, then? You look tired,” she goes back to her spot on his shoulder.

“I’m fine with it, although everyone else has been grumbling,” Oliver sighs, “On one side I have Barry thinking we’re not practicing enough and on the other I have people complaining – my beater, Rene asked me if I hated him with all the practice we were putting in.”

Felicity hums lightly in response.

“And I know it was probably a lot, and that everyone has homework and stuff, but I knew the weather was gonna suck tomorrow so I wanted to get everyone ready to play in bad conditions – I wasn’t trying to be a hard-ass, you know?”

Felicity hums again, and Oliver glances down at her.

Her eyes are shut, lashes brushing against her cheeks. Her breathing has steadied out.

Oliver fights a smile. She looks so peaceful, all the worry lines from her forehead gone. It’s no surprise she’s fallen asleep, considering the week she’s had. He tries to adjust his position so that her neck wouldn’t be quite so crooked, but when she responds by curling herself closer into him, he freezes.

It’s probably not what he should do, but he lets her sleep for about twenty minutes – strain on his shoulder the night before the big game be damned.

Finally, he runs a hand down her cheek gently, whispering her name until her eyes flutter open.

“Oliver, oh my god,” her eyes widen. she straightens up immediately, and he finds himself instantly missing the weight on his side. She swipes a hand down her cheek – checking for drool – and adjusts her glasses, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It’s okay, hon, I shouldn’t have been keeping you up this late anyway.”

“It’s not your fault,” she sighs, releasing her hair from the hair tie and gathering it up once again to fix any fly-aways. “It’s been a crazy week, but I thought I’d be able to make it a little bit longer. How long was I out for? A few minutes?”

Oliver winces.

“I think around twenty.”

Felicity’s eyes widen once more.

“You should have woken me up,” she says, “I’m sorry, again, I just haven’t been sleeping well this week with – with everything.”

Finally, Oliver’s hand comes down on her shoulder.

“Felicity,” he whispers, “I get it, don’t worry. Want me to walk you back to your room?”

She nods, and both of them quietly exit the passageway.

It’s ages past the time any student is supposed to be out in the hallway, so they try to be quiet as they creep towards the Ravenclaw common room.

When they reach the bronze eagle, Oliver grabs Felicity’s arm before she can enter, leaning down to give her another quick kiss. Or, really, what he had intended to be a quick kiss before she brought her hands up to his neck and pulled him in closer.

They stay like that for one, two, three blissful minutes before Oliver’s ears pick up the sound of someone moving through the hallway. The voice that sounds suspiciously like Professor Longbottom’s calls out “ _Who’s there?”_ and he has to pull away.

“Oh, shit,” he whispers against her lips.

She laughs, her breath ghosting down his chin.

“You better get going if you don’t want detention,” she says, her voice a dangerously throaty tone that makes him wonder why he would _ever_ want to be away from her.

But she is right.

(As she often is)

He pulls away, giving her hand one last squeeze before whispering goodnight.

He sneaks down the hallway, narrowly avoiding a prefect on duty as he does, the sound of Felicity’s laughter echoing in the hall plays in his head until he reaches his own room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hope yall enjoyed the fluff cause from next week onward..... uh..... bye.
> 
> tyvm for reading!  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	14. What Goes Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What goes up must fall down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi so… this chapter is v important to me, it contains some stuff I had planned from the very start, and scenes I wrote back in August. Also, I gently flirt with that M rating for the first time. Don't worry, it makes me cringe too. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The morning of Oliver’s Quidditch match, Felicity doesn’t meet him in the Great Hall as always, but in the middle of the moving staircase on her way down.

He looks about as happy as he could with a big game coming up, if not a little bit stressed out.

“Hey,” he says with a light smile, taking her hand, “You sleep okay?”

She nods, rubbing her stiff neck a little.

“Nervous about the game?”

Oliver shakes his head.

“No way. It’s just Ravenclaw, so it should be a piece of cake.”

Felicity gives him a light shove.

“Hey, keep that up and maybe I’ll cheer for _just Ravenclaw_.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Oliver whispers dramatically, before bending his neck slightly to peck her lips.

“Mmm. I guess not,” she says when he pulls back, “Breakfast?”

“Sorry, I can’t,” he says sheepishly, “I have to go down to the pitch early, I was just going to grab something on the way, but I wanted to see you first.”

“Too bad,” she frowns, and they pause at the Entrance Hall, “Well if I won’t see you until after, good luck. Don’t go falling off the broom or anything.”

Oliver snorts.

“I’ll try not to.” He gives her hand one last squeeze and takes off towards the large doors.

* * *

When Felicity gets down to the pitch with Dinah later in the afternoon, she frowns. Just as Barry feared – the weather is absolutely miserable. Low hanging, dark clouds sit in the sky, and the grass is damp from raining all night. The air is misty and cold, and she finds herself wishing she brought a thicker sweater.

Not long after the match starts does the rain start again, and Felicity pities Oliver in that moment, who looks like he’s getting increasingly frustrated with the conditions.

The spectator stands get charmed so that they don’t have to feel the rain, but Felicity finds that they work in the same way that umbrellas do, and don’t do a great job at completely keeping everyone dry. She finds herself glad that she had the foresight to switch out her glasses for contacts before the game.

Despite the miserable rain, Gryffindor seems to be playing well under Oliver’s leadership. Every so often he flies close enough so that Felicity can hear him barking orders at his team. She would sooner die than admit it to him – because he would probably laugh, or get really shy about it like the idiot he is – but seeing him as such a flawless leader makes her insides flip.

Just as last time, she has trouble keeping up with the actual workings of Quidditch, but she knows enough to see that Oliver’s scored a handful of times and put his team in the lead early on.

Mercifully, Oliver’s eyes widen and he calls out, “Allen!” and Barry is diving down the pitch, grazing the muddy grass against the Ravenclaw seeker and finally catches the snitch, holding up the golden ball in his hand triumphantly.

The crowd erupts, mostly in relief that the game ended relatively early, and it’s not long before the stands begin to clear out.

Felicity hangs back a little as the crowd dies out, feeling a little strange standing outside the Gryffindor change room. Players start filing out eventually not noticing the Ravenclaw girl hanging back and trying to pretend like she has any business there.

When Barry comes out and sees her, he grins.

“Felicity!”

“Hey, Barry,” she accepts the kid’s high five easily, “Good job today.”

Barry shakes his head like it’s nothing, beads of water falling out of his dark hair as he does.

“Oliver’s still inside, but he should be out soon,” he says with a knowing smile. Felicity tries not to turn red.

“Oh,” Barry turns back once as he walks away, “There’s definitely going to be a party in the Gryffindor common room tonight. Come with Oliver, it’ll be fun.”

“I’ll try,” Felicity says casually, but she suspects that the last thing the house would want to see in their moment of celebration is someone from the opposing team’s house.

She lingers for a few more minutes, ignoring the way the wind picks up around her. Finally, Oliver emerges. His hair is damp like Barry’s was, and he’s changed out of a Quidditch uniform and into a thin Gryffindor t-shirt despite the weather.

When he sees her lingering by the door, he grins.

“Hey, you,” he says, pulling her close, “I didn’t know you’d be waiting up for me.”

“Couldn’t resist,” she says. He smells like soap and detergent, and no traces of fatigue to give away that he just played Quidditch for an hour. She wonders how he manages to pull that off as she reaches up on her toes to give him a kiss. “Good game. I’m glad you won and didn’t embarrass me out there in front of all those people.”

Oliver laughs, his chest shaking under her hands.

“Well, of course.”

“But seriously,” she brushes the hair above his ear, “I’m proud of you, I know how hard you worked for this one.”

He doesn’t say anything, but leans into her hand and averts his eyes bashfully.

The wind picks up around them and Felicity shudders involuntarily. Oliver notices immediately.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder and leading her back to the castle, “Do you want to come to the Gryffindor party?”

“Barry told me about it,” she hesitates, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be there.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oliver scoffs, “You’re with me, you’ll be fine.”

Felicity laughs.

“Fine, but just for a bit because –”

“You need to wake up early to study tomorrow, I know,” Oliver rolls his eyes, “I know you, Felicity Smoak.”

“Well then, lead the way, Oliver Queen.”

* * *

The party is in full swing by the time Oliver and Felicity arrive at Gryffindor Tower.

No one bats an eye at Felicity’s presence, but Oliver’s arrival is met with a loud chorus of cheering. He doesn’t react to the attention well, smiling awkwardly and raising a hand at everyone calling his name.

“Drinks?” he asks, leading them to a corner where butterbeers are lined up. Felicity unscrews her bottle immediately.

“I’m surprised they didn’t go for anything harder than this,” she comments as she takes a sip.

“I know Slytherin parties usually risk bringing firewhisky in, common room or not, but everyone here doesn’t want to get in trouble.”

Felicity tilts her head to the side.

 “And here I thought you guys were the brave ones.”

“We are,” Oliver puffs his chest out a little, “It probably has more to do with the noble reasons and morals and stuff.”

“Of course,” Felicity says.

The sounds in the centre of the room pick up, and Felicity turns her head at the noise. It looks like some of the team members are standing on chairs and being cheered on while one boisterous student recounts their achievements in the match   .

“And none of it could be done,” the voice – Felicity thinks his name is Nate –booms, “Without the leadership of our Captain, Oliver Queen himself. Where are ya, Ollie?”

Dozens of heads turn their way, and Oliver’s hand tightens in Felicity’s. He raises his butterbeer bottle in response, but when multiple people start calling his name repeatedly, he has to let go.

He walks over with tense shoulders and an even tenser smile. Felicity watches as he tries to argue that he doesn’t need to get up on the chairs with his other teammates, but when the crowd’s cajoling picks up again he relents.

There’s too much noise to be able to figure out what anyone is saying, so Felicity is content to just watch Oliver try and say “ _thank you_ ” over and over again from a corner of the common room.

The cheers eventually turn into singing, the words sounding oddly like “Queen is our King”, and someone is kind enough to tell her that it’s a rendition of an old song Gryffindor coined in the 90s.

She leans on the wall as Oliver gets down from the chair he was forced on, shaking hands with people as he makes his way around the room.

Eventually, he finds his way back to her.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” she raises her eyebrows, “Someone’s popular.”

He gives her a look.

“Don’t. That was the worst. I’m sorry I left you alone.”

“Don’t be, I had fun watching you squirm at the attention,” she laughs.

“Yeah,” Oliver watches as Barry takes a chair in the centre of the room, holding up the golden snitch in his hand to the cheering group, “There was a time where I loved it but now I would rather just….”

He looks down at her.

“You’d rather just what?” she asks, though the words feel oddly caught in her throat.

“I’d rather just be alone. With you.”

“Oh,” Felicity breathes out.

When the cheering picks up again (Barry’s let the snitch fly around and someone’s charmed it so it’s not as fast), Oliver leans down to her ear.

“Want to go somewhere a little more private?” he whispers. His breath tickles down her ear and sends a shiver down her spine.

Jesus. Okay. All she can do is nod in response, before he’s leading her towards a set of spiral staircases. Felicity feels her heart pick up in her chest as she takes the first step, giving a surreptitious glance over her shoulder as she does. Oliver is right behind her, hand resting on her lower back.

“No one’s going to notice,” he whispers.

She nods, feeling an uncharacteristic giggle fall past her lips as she starts skipping steps.

When they reach the door Felicity guesses leads to Oliver’s room, she leans against the wood and starts laughing.

“What?” Oliver asks, sounding a little indignant.

“Nothing,” she says as she catches her breath, leaning her hands down on her thighs, “I just snuck out of a party to go to your room with you. It’s a funny thought.”

Oliver grins, and twists the knob on the door.

The room is dark, unsurprising considering that all but one of the residents are downstairs. Oliver leads her through the space, kicking a stray shirt out of the way as he passes.

“So… this is where the magic happens?” Felicity comments wryly.

Oliver furrows his eyebrows.

“This is Hogwarts, the magic happens everywhere.”

Felicity fights a smile.

“Right… I just meant… Never mind.”

Oliver sits down on a bed towards the window, and she assumes it’s his. He leans back with his palms flat and looks up at her.

“So, what do you think?”

“I think….” she looks around, pretending to think hard about it, “I think it looks like every other dorm, just more red,” she faux whispers, moving closer so that she stands in between his legs, “But it’s nice to have some privacy.”

He leans up to kiss her, and she feels the small smile playing on his lips as he does. She’s all too eager to respond in kind, pressing her lips against his and curling a hand against his neck.

His own hands land on her thighs, applying just a little bit of pressure forward until she gets the message. When she lands in his lap with a muffled _oof,_ they both pull apart for a minute to let out little chuckles.

With everything that happened this year, moments like these have been hard to find. But with Oliver, giggling quietly, noses brushing together, she feels _young_ for the first time in months. Like all the problems they’ve faced melt away when she rests her forehead against his and let him stroke her hair.

When their laughs subside, he’s all too eager to reach up for her lips again, banding his arms around her and pulling her closer.

Electricity shoots up her spine as he does, and she uses the feeling to deepening their kiss, letting her tongue trace the bottom of his lip gently.

His hands dance around the hem of her shirt almost shyly, and she can feel the hesitance as a finger trails under for just a second.

He pulls away again, and whispers her name so softly she almost misses it, but when he looks up at her with honest-to-god shining eyes asking a silent question, it’s hard not to smile.

Heart beating loudly in her ear, she nods shyly, reaching back to put her own hands over his and guiding them under the thin cotton material.

At first his fingertips run featherlight lines up and down her spine, tracing circles and drawing little arrows that make her shiver against him.

He continues his gentle touches, running his thumbs down her hips and letting his fingers gently apply pressure on her back so she leans down again, joining their lips together once more. She lets her hands travel down the hem of his shirt, trailing down the bottom and skimming the belt loops of his jeans as she does.

Feeling braver with each touch of Oliver’s, she wraps her arms around his hips and lets her hands travel under his shirt, tracing over the warm skin in the same way he’s doing with her.

It quickly becomes evident that it isn’t enough, so she breaks free to find the collar of his shirt, his head falling to her neck and trailing down the column of her throat. When her fingers start tugging on the collar, he lets out a puff of air.

“Oliver,” she whispers, and, _goddamn,_ she really didn’t mean for it to sound so throaty but it does.

He finally detaches from her neck at her words, and she can hear his breath hitch as he looks up at her.

He looks at her almost hungrily as he pulls his hands off her back, reaching up the collar of his t-shirt and pulling it over his head in one swift movement without breaking eye contact.

She smiles at the action, but when her eyes fall to his bare chest, she freezes.

Her hands land on his shoulders automatically, under raised pink skin that lick across the area. Her eyes widen in horror as they trace down and see the scars extend down his torso, angry lines telling a story she’s not sure she wants to know.

Sensing the shift in the mood, Oliver tenses underneath her. He clears his throat uncomfortably, misreading her reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he says lowly. “I know this is… it’s not great to look at…”

He trails off awkwardly, averting his eyes.

Felicity shakes her head, trying to break herself out of her horrified trance as she realizes she might have hurt him.

“No, no,” she puts her hands on his face to have him look at her. “That’s not…”

She’s horrified when the tears start welling up, but the realization she’s had hits her like a ton of bricks and makes guilt crawl up her throat.

“I didn’t – I didn’t know,” her voice shakes, “I heard about it – the Healers said… but I never saw it myself.”

She gulps, the sound echoes in the space.

“Oliver, my god, what did they do to you?”

She wills herself to look down at his bare skin again with blurry eyes. One tear spills out of the corner of her eye, then two more, and Oliver finally reacts. He brushes the water away gently and cups the back of her head.

“Felicity,” he says gently. “Felicity, please look at me.”

She can’t.

Because she starts to remember when he was found, when he shouted desperately for her, to know she was safe. The sound made her heart seize that day, and though she later found out why he was so desperate to see her, it hadn’t fully registered.

Oliver had been hurt – worse than hurt, but her mind struggles to find a word that could even begin to describe his pain – and part of it was because of her. They wanted to know who _she_ was. They made him think _she_ was in pain. Did that make it worse? Did it make Oliver distracted or more hurt? Her mind starts drowning in all the possibilities of the kidnapping they’d never really talked about.

She starts to speak again, ignoring the way Oliver gently tries to pull her away from her thoughts.

“I never realized – how could I not realize? Oliver what they did to you – what they put you through – you could have _died_.”

The words tumble out with no direction, half sentences hang in the air as the guilt wraps tightly around her chest, making what they were doing not two minutes earlier seem so far away.

“Felicity, hey, don’t do that,” he hurries when she tries to rise from her place on his lap, “Baby, _please_ look at me.”

He pulls her hands away from his chest and puts them on either side of his face.

“I’m right here. With you. I’m okay. They tried to hurt me, they tried to break me, but they couldn’t. I came back to you. They didn’t hurt me because of you, alright? This was something we couldn’t prevent.”

She freezes, briefly wondering how he read her mind so easily.

He pauses to take a breath, and makes her realize she’s been holding her own as he spoke. He pulls one hand down over his heart. She feels the steady rhythm under her palm.

“Feel that?” he whispers, “Just for you.”

Her eyes slide shut, as she tries to force down all the emotions that come up at his words.

But deep down, she knows he’s right. Oliver survived. He may have gone through hell, and she may never be able to fully understand what happened in that week, but he was alive and they would one day find who did this to him.

When she opens them again, she gives the tiniest hint of a smile.

"That was another line,” she tries to remark lightly, but her voice is still thick.

His body shakes with a chuckle under her, and she can feel the tension dissipate from his body a little.

“But it worked.”

She leans down again, resting her forehead against his and letting her eyes slip shut once more.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, “It just… it hadn’t hit me until just now. The idea that you’d been … _tortured._ It just didn’t seem real until now. I’m sorry.”

“Things have been crazy these past few weeks,” the backs of his fingers stroke up and down her cheek. “We haven’t had much time to process everything. And we’ve jumped into… _us.”_

She hums, content under his touch and finally feeling like she’s come back to herself.

“And we were moving pretty fast just now,” his voice drops as he continues, and her eyes open again.

She frowns.

“Right,” She feels self-conscious now, and oddly exposed even though he’s less dressed than she is.

“I just,” he pauses awkwardly, eyes hitting the ceiling briefly as if looking for help in finding the right words, “I want to, but given what just happened I think we need to hit the brakes on that and just take a minute.”

She nods.

“You’re right,” and oh, how she hates admitting it, “Maybe we just need to take that time for ourselves. Talk. Relax. Maybe this time without me falling asleep on you.”

Oliver smiles.

“Let’s do that then. My roommates will probably be up soon, so let’s get out of here. Sit in that passage for a while, where no one can bother us, and just relax. Okay?”

She finds herself grinning.

“Okay,” she pulls off him, straightening her shirt.

“I’m going to head back to my room, change into some clothes that didn’t get all rained on –” she’s just realizing how completely unsexy that would have been – “And I’ll meet you there?”

“Great. And I’m positive I saw a bottle of mead in Professor Morrison’s office the other day, I’ll get my hands on that and meet you there,” Oliver says with a mischievous look that’s entirely unlike him. She raises her eyebrows.

Sitting on the bed, shirtless and leaning back on his hands, giving her a smirk, Felicity feels like she’s seeing a different side of him. One she’d heard about before, but never got to experience. She likes getting to see all sides of him, and if she’s being honest she _loves_ getting to keep them to herself.

She leaves the room with just a slight bounce in her step, excited to spend the evening with Oliver _not_ discussing school work or whatever mysteries they were trying to uncover.

It seems in the time they were upstairs, the party has wound down, and only a handful of people remain. Luckily, no one seems to notice the girl coming out of the boys’ dormitory staircase – or they just don’t care. Either way, she doesn’t question her luck.

The hallways are empty, which is unsurprising given the hour. Her steps echo down the staircase, which makes her cringe and hope no teacher will find her there.

When she does hear the gentle click that indicates a second set of steps behind her, she freezes and turns around slowly.

“Tommy,” she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him, “You had me worried for a second there.”

He’s giving her a wide smile that can only be described as _classic Tommy Merlyn_.

“Felicity,” he says with a mock-accusatory tone, “What exactly are _you_ doing out so late? And coming from Gryffindor tower, too.”

Her cheeks go red. Busted. She clears her throat awkwardly.

“I was just spending some time with Oliver. Celebrating the Quidditch game and all.”

Tommy raises his eyebrows, his eyes trailing over her open hair and chuckling.

“I’m sure you were,” she turns red at his suggestive tone, “You guys are getting pretty close now, huh?”

She shifts uncomfortably, and it occurs to her that it’s the first time she’s alone with Oliver’s best friend. She feels a little like she did the way she met John – nervous being around someone who means a lot to Oliver. She doesn’t want to mess this up.

She nods despite the feeling, and forces on a small smile.

“We are.”

“Always spending time together,” he says. Something in his tone changes, and she doesn’t know what it is but it makes her take an involuntary step back. “Seems like you’re just everywhere now,” he continues, his low voice starting to rise. “If it’s not your _father_ causing problems, it’s you spending all your time with Oliver.”

She furrows her eyebrows.

“My _what_?”

“You,” he points a finger at her with a smile that is a far cry from before, “Have been causing me a lot of problems lately, Felicity Smoak.”

Her stomach turns uncomfortably. Something is wrong, but she doesn’t want to give away her fear.

“Tommy?”

“If I’m not hearing about you from Oliver, I’m hearing about you from my father. You know, at first when he told me what I had to do, I wasn’t completely for it. But you’ve become a real thorn in my side, Felicity.”

Her heart starts to beat quicker in her ears, her mind taking in all the information he gives away with his words but not feeling steady enough to register.

In the empty staircase, the sound of his wand being drawn echoes.

She takes another step backwards, her heel landing on the crack.

He looks at the wand for a moment and furrows his eyebrows.

“Everywhere,” he repeats, but quiet enough that Felicity doesn’t think she was meant to hear it.

“Tommy,” she says, her voice shakes as it inches towards pleading, “What’s going on? You’re acting strange.”

She tries to look at his eyes, for any signs that he’s being bewitched or under any kind of external influence. What she finds in his clear blue is far more insidious.

Genuine hatred.

Under her feet, the staircase starts to shake, the sign that she needs to move before it does, but with his wand drawn and pointing at her, she’s frozen in place.

Something inside him stops. His eyebrows furrow, and he puts his wand away. He takes one step back and smiles.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Felicity,” he says lightly, not at all sounding sorry, “I’m sure we could have been good friends.”

He turns his back, the last thing she sees is that unreadable smile and eyes that have never looked colder.

The staircase shifts, and the marble disappears beneath her feet.

Then, she’s falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… there it is. If it feels like I’ve pulled the rug out from under your feet (or the staircase... ha ... ha ...), don’t worry, stuff will be clearer with time. In any case, hope the intro to this fic’s Draco-equivalent went over well with you.
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
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> twitter - smoakoverwatch


	15. Little White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals are no fun anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a BLAST reading your reactions last week. SO happy my Big Reveal caught a lot of you by surprise.
> 
> As for this one: it’s a bottle episode. I'm sorry.

The last time Felicity’s head hurt this much was in fifth year.

With two days left of her summer break, as she had packed the last of her bags, Felicity decided enough was enough.

She grabbed her phone off her table, along with the five or so portable chargers she kept and shoved them in between pairs of pajama shirts.

It had been five years at Hogwarts, and though she loved everything about the school, Felicity could _not_ deal with being away from her phone for a whole school year _again_. In fact, if she had the space in her suitcase she’d definitely be taking her laptop with her.

When she reached Hogwarts, she immediately pulled her phone out from in between the piles of pastel cotton. Much to her immense disappointment – the phone did not work inside the magical walls.

But, Felicity Smoak wasn’t on top of her class for nothing – she had anticipated this. She read _Hogwarts: A History_ , she knew how it worked. She came prepared. She pulled out a toolkit and took the back casing of the phone off gently, and tried to figure out how she could somehow charm the insides of the phone to work past Hogwarts’ rules.

In the end, it had cost her an entire night’s sleep and her phone – the thing was permanently damaged by the end.

Her mother didn’t find out until the following summer, and she really couldn’t be mad at that point, which Felicity supposes is the benefit of being at a boarding school in the Scottish Highlands while your mom is in Vegas.

Anyway, she’s gotten away from herself.

The next day, after that sleepless night, she attempted to tackle all her classes and begin O.W.L. test preparation. Her head felt like a cinderblock the entire day and she vowed never again.

The memory dances behind her eyes like a dream, recalling how miserable she felt that day. She was positive she’d never felt worse.

Until now.

The first thing she registers is soft, muted voices. There’s one on her right for sure, and another one moving around, a little more distant. She thinks. Things are a little confusing right now.

She tries to move her head around – feels the pillow move underneath her. It’s flatter than her own, which is uncomfortable. She wants to shove her arm underneath it to try and make her neck more comfortable, but she finds she can’t move it at all.

That’s when she whimpers.

Just like that, it’s as though everything comes into focus. With a sharp sting of tinnitus in her ear, the muted voices become clearer.

“Felicity? Felicity?” is the first thing she hears. A warm hand covers her own, thumb rubbing against her palm.

Finally, Felicity wills her eyes open. It takes a fair amount of effort on her part, since it feels as though the lids have been glued together.

The first thing she sees as she blinks slowly is the top of a dirty blond head of hair, the ends pointing up and in different directions. It’s Oliver, leaning down to their joined hands and pressing a kiss against her skin.

Her eyes drift over to the other arm – which gave her some trouble when she tried to move it a moment ago – and sees that it’s wrapped carefully in a sling. Oh. That explains one thing, at least.

She feels the thin hairs on Oliver’s chin brush against her once, twice, before he straightens up.

“Oliver,” she whispers. Her throat is dry. Her tongue feels like a dry sponge in her mouth, and talking just makes it worse, but she fights the feeling.

“We really need to stop meeting like this,” she mumbles.

It comes out before she can really think about it, and if she had more awareness she’d probably be pretty proud of her display of quick wit.

Oliver doesn’t seem to approve. He gives a sort of choking laugh, and shakes his head.

“That’s not funny,” he says, trying to control his features to wash away amusement.

She looks at him properly. His eyes are tinted red. His Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt looks rumpled. He looks exhausted.

“It was a little funny,” she says, but with her dry throat it comes out as a raspy whisper.

When he frowns and says nothing, she tries to sit up a little, but doing so makes her head throb and the world spin a little.

“Oliver, hey, I’m okay,” she says, wincing. His frown deepens, and he guides her back into a lying position. He reaches down to a table next to her and holds up her glasses, which she takes gratefully.

Wiggling her one hand free from Oliver’s steel grip, she gently peels off the dried contacts from her eyes, which had been making her vision cloudy around the edges.

When she places the glasses on her head, blinking a little, she feels a little more like herself again.

“I was so worried when you didn’t show up to the passage last night,” he says when she’s settled back on the pillow, “I thought maybe you fell asleep or something. But when I was walking back to my room, this prefect stopped me and said they had found you on the fourth floor staircase. I helped him carry you here, but you were completely knocked out. What happened?”

It’s like until that moment, her mind had been protecting her from recounting the event that led her in this hospital bed. But Oliver’s words pull her right back in, and she remembers it all with stunning clarity.

Tommy. His cold eyes. His words – about her father, about his own, about his apparent hatred for her. The way he pulled his wand out at her, led her down the steps as he spoke, and at the last minute put his wand away and watched as the staircase disappeared beneath her feet.

The memory sucks the air right out of her lungs. She could have, or perhaps should have died right then, but something held him back. Something made him bet on a staircase – made him bet wrong – and kept her alive.

Be that as it may, Tommy had all but answered what Oliver and Felicity had been wondering for months – he is the connection the Death Eaters had inside the walls of Hogwarts. Maybe under the influence of his father, or maybe working in partnership with him, whatever it was, it has made Tommy Merlyn very dangerous person capable of carrying out a lot of pain this year.

And, apparently, Felicity is his target.

It’s an overwhelming train of thought, more than she thinks she’s capable of processing in this state.

So when she looks at Oliver, the man who calls Tommy his best friend, who clearly stayed up all night in the hospital for her, _carried_ her here, has very likely not even eaten, she can’t bring herself to recount any of those events or her conclusions aloud.

She clenches her jaw for a moment, considering her options.

She’s never lied to Oliver before. She’s never had a reason to. But right now, with a furious headache, a broken arm, heavy eyelids, and pure _fear_ running through her veins, she can’t put the truth into words.

She’ll tell him later, she promises herself. When she’s feeling a little stronger, she’ll tell him the truth about Tommy. Now isn’t the right time for the heavy conversation that this will bring.

“I was walking there, but I slipped as the staircase moved, I guess I wasn’t paying attention,” she hates how easy the words fall off her tongue, but it’s just a small fib. A little white lie, really, a placeholder until she’s feeling more like herself again, “It was a stupid accident. I always told you I hate those staircases. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Oliver shakes his head.

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

The way he so readily accepts her words makes her heart sink.

She can’t focus on the feeling for too long, however, because the door at the end of the hospital wing flies open and a loud voice calls out.

“I’m sorry Oliver, I came back from lunch as soon as I could, has she – Felicity!” Dinah stands by the other side of her bed faster than Felicity can register.

“I’m so sorry,” she rushes out, “I told myself I would be here until you woke up, but Oliver insisted that I get some lunch, and I was only gone ten minutes –”

“Di,” Felicity cuts her off, and her friend takes a minute to catch her breath, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Dinah brushes the hair off Felicity’s forehead and her eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“How are you feeling?” she asks

“’M fine,” Felicity mumbles, “Head hurts. This arm thing is totally gonna be a problem.”

Oliver and Dinah laugh.

“Do you want some water or something?” Oliver asks. She opens her eyes again when his hand no longer covers her and he’s rising from his chair, “Let me call the Healer.”

Felicity watches him leave and tries not to frown as she remembers the lie she just told him to his face – and that soon, _very_ soon – she’ll have to come clean about it.

“He was really worried, you know,” Dinah says quietly, and Felicity turns her head to see her friend giving a small smile, “I’ve never seen him like that – or anyone, really. I don’t think he’s slept since Friday night. He definitely hasn’t eaten. Honestly, I don’t know how he’s standing right now, with Quidditch yesterday and everything."

The guilt floats around Felicity’s chest, but she chooses to fight it off, and gives Oliver a thankful smile when he hands her a glass of water.

The Healer comes around then, nudging Oliver out of the way and introducing herself to Felicity as Madame Pomfrey.

“Take this,” she shoves an honestly foul-smelling potion into Felicity’s good hand, “It’ll help set the broken bone in your arm. After that we need to get you something for your head.”

Felicity looks at the medicine, frowning when she gives it an experimental sniff, and Dinah tries to stifle a laugh.

“And maybe we should leave the patient’s area uncrowded, so she can heal,” Pomfrey says, glaring pointedly at Oliver and Dinah, which makes Felicity grin.

Dinah and Oliver look at each other almost defiantly, as though silently daring the other to get up first.

“Well I just got back here,” Dinah starts, “Oliver, you haven’t eaten today, have you?”

Oliver sends her a glare, but the other girl only smirks.

“Not hungry,” he says simply, and looks down to Felicity to give her a look filled with something she isn’t sure she wants to put the word to, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Silently, Felicity is grateful that Dinah won’t leave. Partially because her best friend’s presence is comforting, but partially because it stalls the time in which she’ll be left alone with Oliver.

She’s definitely a terrible person.

Pomfery presses her lips together in a thin line as the scene unfolds before her, obviously unhappy that her hospital wing won’t be getting any emptier despite her suggestion. She holds up another vial instead.

“You need to have this every two hours, dear,” she says, the patience strained in her voice, “I know it doesn’t taste pleasant but if you take it regularly your arm will be healed in no time.

Felicity nods. She takes a tentative sip of the potion and has to stop herself from gagging – it’s truly awful, a metallic taste that lingers in her mouth even after she swallows the last drop.

“Good, I’ll be back later with something for your concussion,” Pomfrey throws one last look to her bedside companions, “Try and get some rest.”

She walks away, returning to another corner of the hospital wing where a first-year kid is clutching his stomach and looking regretful.

“She’s not a big fan of me,” Oliver admits as the Healer leaves.

“Oh?” Felicity leans into the pillow again. The potion makes her drowsy, she thinks, because her eyelids feel a little heavier now, “I can’t imagine why. You’re always a delight.”

“Very funny,” Oliver drawls, “I was just worried about you, and she didn’t appreciate how I woke her up in the middle of the night and wouldn’t let her work alone.”

“People these days,” Felicity says – mumbles, really – with a small grin.

Footsteps sound near the entrance of the wing, where Felicity can’t see. She groans quietly.

“If it’s someone visiting, you want me to tell them to leave?” Dinah asks, “I know you want to must be tired.”

“No, it’s fine,” Felicity responds.

When the visitor in question comes into view she instantly regrets it.

“Tommy!” Oliver exclaims, turning his neck towards his friend, missing the way Felicity’s expression twists almost instantly.

Tommy walks towards Felicity’s bed with an easy grin. He smiles at her like nothing is wrong, like he didn’t just try to kill her last night.

It makes her heart beat erratically in her chest, the drowsy effects of her potion all but gone. As he makes his way closer, Felicity feels completely frozen in place, although every instinct in her body is telling her to run.

“Hey there,” he says softly, the words sounding distant as she gets lost in her own panic, “Word in the hallway is that someone got hurt. I just wanted to check in. How are you feeling, Felicity?”

He’s good. The subtle concern colouring his voice, the furrowing of his eyebrows, the leaning over to clasp Oliver’s shoulder as a greeting. He’s acting like nothing is wrong, like nothing’s changed, so she must, too.

She takes a moment to force her breathing back in check.

“I’m fine, thank you,” it takes the words a few times to find their way up her throat, but she’s proud of herself for sounding relatively even.

“What happened?” he presses.

She has to fight the urge to shout. _You know exactly what happened, asshole. If you had it your way I probably wouldn’t even be alive._ _What, did you come by to see if you could finish the job?_

“I just had a bad fall walking down the stairs last night,” she says, curling her fingernails into her palm to keep her voice in check. The next words slip out without her consent, “Oliver found me.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have Oliver,” Tommy says, quirking an eyebrow, and Felicity finds herself raising her chin as he does, “I’m glad you’re okay. It could have been really serious.”

“We’re all glad,” Dinah says, smiling down at Felicity. For a moment, Felicity lets herself relax as she looks up at her friend.  

Tommy’s attention turns to Dinah for the first time. He gives her a quick once over.

Felicity’s stomach flips when she sees.

 _No,_ she wants to cry out, _stay the hell away, you don’t get her too._ But instead, she just presses her teeth into her lips.

“Oh! Sorry, I don’t think you two have met,” Oliver exclaims, apparently noticing his friend’s look just as Felicity did, “Tommy, this is Dinah, Felicity’s best friend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tommy says, the corner of his mouth twisting upward, “Felicity’s best friend.”

Dinah blushes.

Dinah Drake actually _blushes._

She didn’t even think someone could _have_ that effect on her.

Watching all of this happen, Felicity doesn’t know if she feels surprised, sick, or murderous right now.

(It’s an unhealthy combination of the three, and it’s not working out for her)

It’s unnerving to watch this all happen. Tommy looks nothing like the person she saw in the staircase the night before. He’s light, smiling, calm. It makes doubt rise, for a moment, in her chest.

If she hadn’t seen it with her own two eyes she wouldn’t believe it either.

But as he’s grinning his way through this conversation, he’s being exposed to more of her. He’s learning she’s weak right now – maybe it’ll make him more inclined to go for a take 2 on their little staircase scene. He’s learning who her best friend is, he is observing Oliver’s gaze trained on her.

“I should actually get going,” Dinah says after blinking away her dazed look, and forcing Felicity out of her own internal spiral, “But I’ll definitely be back later, I’m glad you’re feeling okay.”

Felicity watches her leave, unsure if she’s relieved that Dinah will get some distance from Tommy or if she’s scared of being left alone.

“I can’t believe this is the first time my best friend and my girlfriend are meeting,” Oliver complains from her side, gesturing between her and Tommy, “And you’ve wanted to meet her for weeks, Tommy!”

The words make Felicity’s breath catch.

“Yes, I’ve wanted to properly meet the girl who’s gotten Ollie all twisted up and out of sorts this year,” Tommy looks over at her and that look returns, the same one that scared her so deeply last night, “I’m sure we’ll be great friends, Felicity.”

_“I’m sorry it had to be this way, Felicity. I’m sure we could have been good friends.”_

His words trigger the memory – she can see his cold eyes, hear his unsettlingly casual voice all over again. All she can do is nod – she thinks if she tries to talk she’ll just scream. Or cry.

“I should probably let you rest,” Tommy finally says, and she can feel the knot in her chest lessen a little, “I just wanted to come down for a few minutes. Glad to see you’re okay, Felicity.”

He throws her one last look before leaving, and as his figure disappears through the door Felicity finally feels like she can breathe again.

Beside her, Oliver brushes a loose strand of hair away from her face.

“How are you feeling? Do you want anything, are you comfortable?”

Felicity smiles despite herself. His obvious worry is heartwarming.

“I’m fine, I promise,” she turns to the potion sitting on the table and looks at it disdainfully, “Although _that_ doesn’t help much.”

Oliver laughs.

“I totally remember the potions they made me take after I was taken. It was the worst. All I wanted was to eat normal food. Do you want me to sneak you in something to eat? I totally can.”

Oliver’s lips turn up in a small smile, and Felicity’s willing to bet that anything she asked for right now he would get for her – or raise hell until he could get it for her. If it hadn’t been evident before, she can see how deeply he cares for her.

Her eyes fill with tears as he frets over her, but she blinks them away.

Oliver notices, and his eyebrows furrow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, her voice an octave higher than it usually is, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Oliver’s worry is quickly replaced with a small smile.

“No place I’d rather be.”

His words make the lump in her throat grow heavier, but she fights it off.

“I actually think I’m gonna rest now,” she says, “But thank you for everything.”

He nods, leaning over to kiss her forehead.

“I’ll be right here.”

The guilt settles down on her like a knee pressing into her chest.

She knows that when the time comes, and she does come clean to Oliver about his best friend, there’s a good chance he _won’t_ be.

As her eyes slip close, she chooses instead to focus on the feeling of his arm curled with hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten more chapters left in this insane project of mine. Aaaah. Thank you for reading!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	16. Veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of funny how being cornered by a Death Eater disguised as your boyfriend’s best friend and maybe-almost dying as a result puts thing into perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *comes out of cave* *waves* so…. I expected ppl to … not be happy with me over last week. Luckily for yall (and me), I am not the Arrow writers and I don’t believe in dragging a lie out. Unluckily, that means we got some angst coming our way. Don’t yell at me please.

It takes two weeks for things to fall apart.

At first, it’s easy to avoid confronting the truth that hammers away at Felicity’s head.

She spends the better part of the fourteen-point-five days in the hospital wing, waiting for the dull ache behind her eyes to go away and the bone in her arm to reset. The potions she is taking keep her drowsy, which is a relief because she doesn’t think sleep would come to her naturally these days.

She also misses more than a handful of classes, and once upon a time that would have been Felicity Smoak’s number one nightmare.

Kind of funny how being cornered by a Death Eater disguised as your boyfriend’s best friend and maybe-almost dying as a result puts thing into perspective.

In any case, she hasn’t had a lot of time around Oliver that don’t involve him obsessively fluffing her pillow, bringing her water, and reading Potions class notes aloud when her eyes hurt too much.

It means she hasn’t really found the right time to tell Oliver the truth about Tommy. And not for a lack of trying on her part, but in her defense, there’s no right way to casually go about it. " _Hey, your long-time childhood friend nearly killed me the other day. Can you pass me the_ Daily Prophet _?”_

She doesn’t even consider going to someone on the staff, remembering how easily everyone had dismissed Oliver after he had been kidnapped – and he suffered actual curse scars from the Death Eaters. Nobody would believe that Tommy Merlyn, Slytherin prefect and known charmer of all the staff, is working with them.

Not to mention, there’s also the fact that she can’t bring herself to trust all of the teachers fully. Not yet.

Tommy can’t possibly be working alone in here.

All in all, she’s spent a lot of time thinking about the whole ordeal before she can find a moment to tell Oliver.

And she is well aware that with more time between The Incident (as she’s taken to calling it in her head), the more Oliver will probably be upset with her.

However, when she _is_ released from the hospital a week after The Incident, she becomes so swamped in school work that seeing Oliver at all isn’t an option.

She’ll tell him, she swears she will, but first she kind of needs to have a moment with him alone before he’s being swept off to Quidditch practice or she’s remembering she’s late for a meeting with a teacher.

And, yes, she’s well aware that time is of the essence, especially considering that any day now Tommy can wake up and decide he wants to finish what he started and take her out once and for all.

She muses over this… sunny topic over breakfast one day, reading over the letter that John sent over that morning.

It’s nothing serious – he heard what happened and wished her a speedy recovery. It’s a completely harmless letter but somehow it still makes her lose her appetite. She shoves the letter to the bottom of her bag when she sees Oliver approaching.

“Morning,” he says as he sits next to her, pausing only to press a kiss on her forehead.

As he sits, she frowns at his attire.

“You’re dressed for a Quidditch game,” she says.

“Yeah,” Oliver laughs, “That tends to happen on days I have one.”

She furrows her eyebrows.

“Already? I swear you just had one.”

Oliver keeps grinning.

“Yeah, it’s kind of a big one tonight. If we win, we win the Quidditch House Cup. But I don’t blame you for forgetting with everything going on,” he gestures to her arm, which is now sling-free, but still feels sore sometimes.

“Right.” Felicity blinks, “I did forget, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Oliver insists, “And if you’re not feeling okay to come, I don’t want you to think you _have_ to, if you need to rest, or something –”

God, she feels like the worst girlfriend in the world.

“Oliver,” she says, “Of course I’ll be there.”

Oliver grin splits through his sympathetic look.

“Great. It’s against Slytherin, I’m really excited. Whenever I have matches against Tommy we get really into it. We’ve been trash talking all week – don’t tell Barry, I’ll look like a total hypocrite.”

Felicity laughs, but it comes out hollow.

Tommy. For a moment she’d been able to just forget about him, but he doesn’t escape her thoughts.

Before she can school her features into something less, well, _haunted_ , Oliver is rising from his seat.

“Sorry, I only had a minute to chat, but I gotta make sure the team’s feeling okay,” he says as he stands, straightening the Gryffindor crest on his shirt proudly, “I’ll see you later?”

Felicity can only nod distractedly, tilting her head more out of muscle memory than anything else as Oliver presses his lips against her forehead.

Well. If they win and she tells him, she’ll crush his mood. If they lose and she tells him, she’ll be kicking him when he’s down.

Guess the truth will just have to wait one more day.

* * *

Felicity will likely regret it later, but she finds she can’t bring herself to pay attention to the Quidditch match.

In her defense, Quidditch has never held much interest for her, and the only reason she finds herself at these games is for a certain captain in red.

She had gone down to the pitch having silently prepared herself, but no amount of being your own personal hype-woman keeps her from feeling like the air has been dementors-kissed right out of her lungs when the game begins.

She knows Tommy is on the Slytherin team, and she knows he is, like Oliver, the team captain, so he’d be hard to avoid for the duration of the match.

Still, that doesn’t make it any easier.

He’s a natural Quidditch player, much like Oliver is. In fact, if the fear wasn’t clouding her thought process so much she’d argue that they had the exact same style of leadership.

And every time she feels like she can let her guard down and enjoy the match, she sees it again.

That cold, calculating gaze.

It’s a completely _un-_ sinister situation – in fact, he’s just sweeping the area in an effort to find the snitch, which is his _job_ , but something about the way he flies around sets Felicity’s teeth on edge.

The game goes on for about an hour, and it allows Felicity’s mind to wander more than it already had in the past few days.

She starts to feel a cold amount of regret seeping in at her actions – or, as the case may be, her inactions.

She’s waited too long, stalling on telling Oliver out of her own stupid fear when this entire situation is much bigger than her – and them, it’s about the safety of hundreds of other students who aren’t privy to the same level of knowledge on Death Eater uprisings as they have been.

She still firmly believes that none of the adult authority figures in this school can be trusted, but her letter from John Diggle this morning reminded her that she did have people who’d be willing to hear her out.

Now, all she needs is a free moment between recovery and school work to get down to Hogsmeade to pick John’s brain for an hour or two.

Easy peasy.

She tucks the idea aside for later, because when the crowd picks up its gasps she has to pull her attention back into the game.

Barry and Tommy are both pulling their brooms in to sharp downward dives, and she assumes they’ve both spotted the snitch. She only sees a flash of gold once, before it disappears, and the two seekers are furiously steering themselves to the left to try and keep up with it.

God, Tommy is an aggressive seeker. He flies a little too close to Barry as they both try and push themselves for speed. Felicity can see that the back of his broomstick pushes against Barry’s leg in a way that makes him stumble in the air for a moment.

The feeling nearly knocks Barry off his broom and sends him plummeting into the grass, but he manages to balance himself just in time. In turn, Felicity has to swallow the cry that almost jumped out of her throat as she watched, and she sheepishly forces herself back in her seat.

Luckily, Tommy doesn’t try anymore dirty tricks and soon the golden snitch finds itself into Barry Allen’s hand, who raises it triumphantly.

Just like that, the game ends. The Gryffindor crowd erupts into loud cheers – she’s unsure, but Oliver might have mentioned once that they hadn’t won the Quidditch Cup in a few years, and it’s the first time under his captaincy.

It’s a big deal. She can see that as Oliver descends onto the pitch and runs to Barry, wide grin split across his face. The two boys throw their arms around each other, laughing, exchanging words.

Eventually, the rest of the team joins in, piling on into one big group hug until she can’t distinguish Oliver from the rest anymore.

When the scarlet crowd breaks apart, they form a line next to where the Slytherin players, looking exhausted and defeated, wait. The two teams exchange handshakes good-naturedly, no sense of any bitterness from the match. The two captains punctuate their lines, which means that Oliver and Tommy shake hands last.

Felicity watches with a clenched heart as they join in the middle, Tommy shaking his head and grinning before pulling Oliver in for a hug.

The sight makes her eyes blur. When the Quidditch Cup is presented, and Oliver lifts it over his head in a triumphant grin, Felicity has to hold back a sob.

Here he is, looking the happiest he had been all year, and Felicity feels like she can’t get any air in her lungs. The guilt is too all consuming. She _wants_ to be happy for him – and she is, or she will be later when she manages to get any thoughts of Tommy Merlyn out of her head – but for now it hurts too much to watch.

As the crowd in the stands starts to ease out, Felicity takes her time getting back into the castle. She knows that once she’s in there, Oliver will want to pull her in to another Gryffindor celebration – and the memories of the last one are a little to etched into her brain at the moment.

By the time she wanders through the Entrance Hall, the space is fairly empty. She doesn’t see any Gryffindors and sighs in relief – all of them must be well into partying by now.

She doesn’t think twice before turning in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room. She decides she’ll just apologize to Oliver the next day, tell him she wasn’t feeling well after the match and went to sleep early – what’s another lie, right?

Unfortunately for her, the plans she formulates to get into bed early and mope – yeah, she’s not above moping right now – quickly go downhill.

“Felicity!” she hears Oliver running after her and feels her heart drop to her feet.

She turns slowly, figuring there’s no use trying to get away now. He jogs over, cheeks flushed red and a big smile on his face, the effects of his big win still evident on his face.

“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says when he reaches her, taking one hand gently in his, “Where have you been?”

“Hey, -” the excuse sits on her tongue, but is quickly swallowed when Oliver leans down to take her lips in his eagerly. His hands cup her face and the momentum of his abrupt kiss makes her sway a little.

He pulls back, still smiling in the way that makes his eyes crinkle around the corners. She apparently doesn’t school her own features in time, apparently, because the grin quickly drops as he looks at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, closing her eyes for a bit as she rushes out a lie, “I’m really happy for you, but I’m just a little tired so I think I’m going to head up to my room and sleep.”

Oliver’s eyebrows meet down the centre as he looks at her for a while.

“Oh,” he says simply. She tries not to let the guilt get to her – it’s for the best, she tells herself, “Right, of course. Your head must be hurting after all that today. Get some rest, okay?”

It’s so easy, the way his concern washes over him and he pushes his own happiness aside. It does nothing for her mood, and the rock in her stomach settles in deeper. When he leans down to brush a kiss against her cheek, she finds her eyes filling with tears.

She tries to blink them away as he pulls back – just ten more seconds and you can be alone, she tells herself.

But of course, nothing gets past Oliver Queen,

“Hey,” he says, his voice deepening, “Seriously, what’s wrong? And don’t say –”

“Nothing,” it slips out automatically.

“Don’t,” he says firmly, “Something’s bothering you. What is it? Please.”

Felicity presses her lips tightly together, until the pressure starts to hurt. Her eyes fill with more tears as he looks at her, full devotion on her feelings.

She shakes her head helplessly.

“I don’t want to get into it right now, please,” she throws a hand in the air and gestures weakly, “You just won your big game, it’s nothing, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“None of that is important to me right now,” Oliver says, moving closer automatically when she takes a step back, “Come on, talk to me.”

“Oliver, seriously, it’s not that big a deal,” she pushes away, trying to ignore the hurt that flashes over his face.

“It is a big deal if it has you this upset,” he insists, “Please, I won’t be able to relax if I know something’s bothering you.”

Felicity sighs, feeling oddly trapped. She shakes her head from side to side, a tear slipping down the side of her face.

“Once you know, things will never be the same.”

“Felicity,” he implores, finding her hand and squeezes it tight.

Felicity takes a deep breath, taking a moment to revel in the feeling of their fingers tangled together. After this, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever get it again.

“It’s Tommy,” she finally reveals.

Oliver’s concerned expression automatically drops.

“Tommy? What about him?”

She hates this so much. She can see that the mention of his name makes some of Oliver’s tension disappear – she can see that he’s thinking that whatever it is, if it involves Tommy it can’t be so bad.

He’s wrong.

“The night I got hurt,” she speaks slowly, as though to draw the moments before the explosion out as long as she can, “He was there. I… I got hurt because of him. I kept it from you, and I’m sorry.”

She straightens her shoulders as she speaks, bracing herself.

Oliver doesn’t say anything, so she continues.

“He found me walking back from Gryffindor tower. He started talking, and at first none of it made sense, but he pulled his wand out on me and then I realized. He’s been working for _them,_ for the Death Eaters, probably with Malcolm.”

“That… you’re not making any sense,” Oliver eventually stutters out.

She tries not to let it hurt – it’d be hard for anyone to swallow.

“Just hear me out,” she says evenly. Now that the truth is in the air, she can somehow find it in herself to see it through, “He was talking, and he said something about his father being on his case, and my father, and so it all added up. But he put his wand away at the last minute, because he backed me on to the staircase as it moved.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything. She ignores the pain his silence brings – and oh, does it hurt, right in her chest, that he’s looking at her in a way he never did before.

“I think… I think he was supposed to _kill_ me, Oliver. I think he couldn’t, so he hoped the fall would do the job for him instead.”

Oliver’s head starts moving back and forth.

“That doesn’t make any sense. You’re wrong,” Felicity recoils, “You probably didn’t see properly, but it wasn’t him.”

Her throat feels tighter at his rejection.

“I saw just fine, Oliver,” she says, her voice a little harder.

“Maybe someone took Polyjuice Potion to look like him –”

“Oh, come on, Oliver, don’t be ridiculous –”

“It’s not so insane!” Oliver argues, “It used to happen all the time during the last war. They had to create codes and security questions and –”

“I know that,” she closes her eyes for a moment to try and control her raised voice, “But I know what I saw. I remember that… that look he gave me. I saw it later too.”

“This is insane!” Oliver finally explodes, Oliver can only shake his head. “This is _Tommy,_ he can barely let a girl down easy. He could never be a _Death Eater_. Do you even understand what you’re saying? You’re saying that _everything_ – including me being taken on Christmas – would be because of him.”

Felicity throws a hand in the air helplessly.

“We always thought there was someone inside the school working for them… We were too focused on the teachers to even _consider_ students…”

“He wouldn’t, Felicity,” Oliver says firmly. “He just… He wouldn’t do that.”

“Why can’t you believe me?” Felicity doesn’t mean to say it, but it slips out without her consent, her voice cracking just a bit.

This is precisely why she had been afraid of telling him for so long. Here, she’s forced to face the reality she avoided for weeks – that her mind had conjured up in nightmares for nights on end. That at the end of the day, he won’t choose her over Tommy.

Being alarmingly aware that it’s going to happen makes her chest feel as though it’s caving in.

“Don’t,” he says lowly, “Don’t do that. It’s not about you, Felicity… This is my _best friend_ you’re talking about here. I’ve known him my whole life. You need to give me some time before you spring this on me.”

“I didn’t have time when I fell down those stairs,” Felicity finally says, her voice so loud it echoes around the empty hallway and she has to rein it in, “I didn’t have time when he pulled his wand out on me and I thought he would seriously hurt me. None of this was exactly _fair_ for me, either.”

Tears are openly falling down her cheeks now, she’s long since given up trying to keep herself together.

They’re standing only a foot apart, but suddenly it feels like an entire ocean stands in their way.

“I would never lie to you about this,” she finally says quietly, “Or tell you if I had even an _ounce_ of doubt. I _wish_ I was wrong. But it’s the truth. You have to trust me on this.”

Oliver just shakes his head. He runs a hand through his hair tiredly and looks at the floor.

“I can’t process this right now.”

“So where does that leave us?” she hates how she sounds at that moment. Small, uncertain, broken. It’s how she’s felt for weeks finally coming to surface.

His eyes never meet hers. The fact that he won’t just _look_ at her might be worse than what he says next.

“I don’t know.”

She nods.

“I’m going to give you some time until you can figure it out.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look up past his feet.

So she turns. She keeps her head high and tightens her hands into fists at her side to stop them from shaking.

She goes straight to her dorm, and only when the blue curtains are pulled on her four-poster bed does she let the first sob escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> … Yeah. It’s been a few chapters since we heard from Oliver, so next week has some of his thoughts.
> 
> Thanks again for sticking with me this far. Nine left (Ah). 
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	17. Liminal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning the truth about Tommy, Oliver and Felicity’s relationship is in an uncomfortable in between stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thank you for your kind words even though I ended in such an angsty place last week. Enjoy this one!

It’s been a week since Oliver and Felicity’s confrontation in the hallway.

And, though Felicity generally isn’t one for exaggeration, it might have been one of the most difficult weeks of her life. And she’s including the one she had to spend in the hospital wing with a broken arm.

For one thing, she’s miserable. And if the few times she catches Oliver’s eye are anything to go on, she can tell he is too.

For another, Felicity is entirely unsure of where they stand. Their conversation wasn’t quite a breakup, but it was worse than just a fight.

But for the time being they’re stuck in a liminal space – stuck in between two stages, the ambiguous other, and it kills her. In between one big conversation and another that is sure to come soon – assuming Oliver can ever stand to look at her for longer than a second.

All she knows is that he wanted some time, and she is giving it to him. Even if it hurts, even if it means that after Oliver contemplates he can decide that he actually doesn’t believe her, and as a result he’ll throw everything they had away.

But she’s putting perhaps far too much hope into the possibility that he _might_ believe her. That he’ll eventually come back, and they can talk about it like mature almost-adults, move on and be able to tackle the issue of a Death Eater in their school working with other, more powerful Death Eaters outside.

But she supposes, for that to happen he’d probably have to start _looking_ at her.

She’s been lucky most of the week – the busy schedule of theirs that seemed to constantly keep them apart when they first started dating is a blessing now. The first time she knows she has to _truly_ confront the awkwardness is her Monday morning Potions class.

Like always, she gets to the classroom early and takes her spot by the front. Gradually, students trickle in but the spot next to hers remains empty, as Oliver didn’t walk with her down from breakfast like he’d done for the better part of the year.

She distracts herself by going over the assigned chapter for this week’s class, hoping that the task would stop her from obsessively checking the door every minute and waiting for Oliver to even show up.

When she feels a shadow fall over her book, her neck nearly snaps to look up.

She tries not to let the disappointment sting too much when she sees who it is.

Ray Palmer – seventh year Ravenclaw smiles down at her. He’s a decent guy. Talkative. Smart. A tendency to be a little arrogant. They’ve spoken a few times in their common room, but not enough that Felicity can categorize them as friends, if she’s being honest.

“Hey, Felicity!” he says enthusiastically, though something tells her that might just be his default setting.

“Hi, Ray...” Felicity finds herself eyeing the door warily.

“I glad I caught you before class,” he says, sinking in the empty seat next to her, unprompted.

She tries not to raise her eyebrow at his actions.

“I wanted to get your opinion on the end of the year assignment,” _Oh good,_ “Now, I always thought that belladonna would be a useful ingredient in –”

He continues on for a painful ten minutes, his question on their project somehow turns into wanting her opinions on current happenings in the world of Hogwarts’ academic clubs. Felicity can’t contribute more to the conversation other than a noncommittal hum here and there as she steals glances at the door.

Ray’s a nice guy. She doesn’t think he’s flirting or anything, but they’ve never talked all too much before, so it seems strange. Not to mention, she can feel some weird looks thrown their way as students start to come in from breakfast.

When class is about to begin and nearly all seats have filled up, Felicity notices Oliver finally appearing at the front door. His gaze finds hers immediately, and when they trail over to Ray something flares in his eyes, but a moment later it’s gone.

Ray follows her line of sight and his eyes light up knowingly.

“Oh! There’s your boyfriend,” he says with a friendly smile, “I’d better get going, but thanks for letting me pick your brain!” He rises from the seat and finds a chair near the back, next to a Gryffindor Felicity recognizes from the party weeks ago, Nate Haywood.

Oliver still lingers by the door.

Felicity glances around the room. Every other seat is now filled, which means that he really has no choice but to sit next to her. Unless he turns around and leaves the class.

She tries not to think about how depressing it is that their relationship has come down to this.

It doesn’t take long for him to notice the lack of seating options, so he crosses the room and takes his seat like he always does. He stares straight ahead after he takes his books out, and a moment later Professor Macmillan walks in and jumps into his lesson.

The entire class passes by in a lecture that Felicity doesn’t pay attention to.

He doesn’t look at her once, so she returns the gesture, instead trying very hard to follow Professor Macmillan’s details on the theory of potion aging.

The entire situation makes Felicity’s stomach turn. She wants Oliver to say something, anything, just so she can have an idea of where they’re at, at least.

He doesn’t give her a word.

She hoped that by a week she’d be able to feel a little less, but she was wrong.

It only hurts more.

* * *

Oliver walks out of Potions class feeling heavy.

He doesn’t like not talking to Felicity. He hates it. The distance between them is awful, it makes him feel sick. It’s all he can concentrate on these days.

But that doesn’t change how much trouble he’s had reconciling with what she said.

Their conversation has replayed in his mind at least a thousand times since that day. He’s thought about what she said, what he said, what he _could_ have said over and over again. He’s lost sleep for more than a few nights as he tries to make sense of it all.

It’s a serious accusation – Tommy being a _Death Eater._

On the one hand, he can’t argue with Felicity’s memory, but on the other it’s hard to honestly believe that his oldest friend would be capable of doing anything that evil.

Trying to _kill_ Felicity, for one thing. Helping Death Eaters take him from the castle and have him tortured, for another.

It’s just too ridiculous. It’s unthinkable.

But every so often the doubt creeps up on him.

_Sometimes, the devils are inside the walls._

Malcolm Merlyn was in that picture Diggle showed them.

But that doesn’t mean anything. Felicity’s father was there, too. And besides, Malcolm Merlyn has always been, in Oliver’s eyes, a strange person. He never knew the man growing up.

Lately, Oliver’s been revisiting all his interactions with Tommy from the past year, trying to make sense of what Felicity said.

The only thing that possibly throws him off in all of this is one memory from the summer that feels hazy.

The week immediately following Robert’s death is always something Oliver tries not to think about – even months later the grief feels fresh.

But he’s been forcing himself through it, trying to remember anything from the investigation, from his murder.

The only thing that keeps nagging at him, that he keeps coming back to, is the day of his father’s funeral.

Given Robert Queen’s contributions to the western wizarding world, the funeral was hardly a quiet affair. Even with the rumors being printed in _The Daily Prophet_ that put Robert’s moral character into question, witches and wizards came from far and wide to watch him be put to rest.

Oliver remembers greeting face after face, accepting condolences and pats on the back and _stay strong, son_ ’s over and over again until each guest blended together.

He remembers Diggle coming over, not offering any empty words as though he understood it wasn’t what Oliver needed, but still standing by his side.

He remembers the letter he had gotten that morning from his best friend sitting in his pocket, reminding Oliver where his other best friend was.

Tommy had been travelling since the beginning of July, with Malcolm, and they weren’t able to cut their trip short. Tommy sent his apologies, condolences, and a promise to see Oliver when the new school year had started.

At the time, Oliver thought nothing of it.

But now…

Once he exits the most tense Potions lesson of his life, Oliver knows that his head is far too clouded to go to his Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Instead, he turns to walk on towards the bridge.

It’s a foggy day, not offering much of a view of the Highlands for him to look out to, but he likes the fresh air all the same. And the solitude.

Of course, the moment he thinks it, it doesn’t last.

He turns his head at the sound of footsteps and sees the very subject of his thoughts walking over.

Tommy has the usual grin on his face as he tilts his head and leans on the railing next to Oliver.

“Skipping class, Ollie? That’s not like you at all,” he comments.

“Really?” Oliver says dryly, “Because one time in fourth year I convinced you to cut Charms with me just because it was a sunnier than average day.”

It’s half-hearted banter, one that doesn’t feel right now with everything going around Felicity’s admission, but it makes Tommy laugh anyway.

“Yeah, but that was the Oliver of last year. This year you’re all studious and serious. Wonder who has to do with that.”

Oliver looks at his friend closely, this time trying to look at his friend through a different set of eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s our seventh year,” he says casually, “I figured it’s time I grew up. Before we get to the _real world_ – or whatever.”

Tommy chuckles.

“You know that’s not what I meant. I’ll give you a hint, she’s blonde, she wears glasses, she’s supposed to be a super-nerd who’s got my best friend _bewitched_ this year.”

Something twists in Oliver’s gut as Tommy speaks of Felicity. It’s not the first time he’s teased about Felicity, not by a long shot, but it’s the first time his words made Oliver feel genuinely uncomfortable.

“So, tell me, does your girlfriend know you’re skipping class to brood out here?” Tommy pushes.

Or, Oliver thinks that he’s pushing. He could just be making conversation.

Damn. Oliver isn’t sure of anything anymore.

“She doesn’t. And I am not brooding,” he adds the last part as a petulant afterthought, which only makes Tommy laugh more.

“You totally are, but it’s okay. I’m here for you, buddy. Lady troubles?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Oliver keeps his eyes on the foggy space in front of him.

“Really?” Tommy asks, “Because all anyone can talk about lately is that Hogwarts’ Golden Couple not spending any time together anymore. People are asking a lot of questions.”

“Hm,” is all Oliver can say, “I didn’t know they called us the Golden Couple.”

He hopes that, if their relationship survives, that awful title dies out.

“Ollie,” there’s an edge of frustration in Tommy’s voice now, “I’m your best friend. If you guys broke up or something and it’s making you this sad, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Oliver finds himself turning to Tommy. He still looks like the same old Tommy he’s known his whole life. He’s being pushy, sure, but Tommy is a shameless gossip by nature and has always wanted to make sure Oliver was with people who made him happy.

Still, Oliver finds himself inclined to lie.

“We’re not broken up,” well, he’s actually _not_ sure how true that one might be, “We just had a stupid fight.”

“What happened?”

Oliver answers with the first thing that comes to mind.

“Just… my plans after graduation. Her being a year younger. It’s stupid stuff. It’ll blow over.”

Tommy’s careful composure drops in confusion for a moment, but he recovers quickly.

“That’s rough,” he says sympathetically, “Well, uh, if you ever need to talk about it, man, you know where to find me.”

Oliver nods, looking at his friend and feeling the suspicion rising.

“Yeah, I know,” Oliver says, “My father was usually the person I would go to for these kinds of things. Before he was murdered.”

Tommy shifts uncomfortably, perhaps at Oliver bringing up Robert, perhaps at his cold diction in describing his father’s death.

But Oliver continues anyway.

“He just knew how to talk through a fight with my mom. I used to watch them resolve conflicts in, like, the _calmest_ ways, you know? They just… talked. They were open with each other. Honest. He always knew what to say.”

Oliver’s lying through his teeth at this point. Robert and Moira Queen were hardly the leading examples of a _healthy marriage_ , but one thing they did do well was put up a united front that fooled everyone – including their close family friends – into believing they were a picture perfect couple.

It’s finally working to Oliver’s advantage.

Tommy only nods silently at his words.

“My mother talked about it at his funeral,” Oliver continues, “In her eulogy. Remember?”

Another lie. His mother was beside herself in grief, she could barely manage to get herself to the funeral, let alone form a coherent sentence. Oliver was pushed to speak instead. He hated it.

Tommy looks regretful.

“No, Oliver, I missed the funeral, remember?”

“Right,” Of course, Oliver remembers. He just needed the confirmation once more, and to see the way Tommy has stirred throughout this conversation is telling enough.

“I miss him every day,” Oliver says, looking back out to the landscape once more. The fog begins to clear out, and the tips of the mountains begin to peek through the gray, “My dad, I mean. It’s been months, and it just never makes sense to me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tommy look to his feet briefly.

“It was his time, Ollie, he’d want you to be happy.”

“Mm,” Oliver says, “I’m sure he’d want to be with his family. Not murdered.”

As the pieces start to come together in his mind, a cold feeling washes over Oliver. He pushes off the railing of the bridge.

He needs to find Felicity.

* * *

Felicity finds herself picking at her lunch not unlike she did with her breakfast this morning. And dinner last night. And so on.

She hasn’t really had an appetite lately.

Dinah fills the empty seat Felicity saved for her before she can get too lost in her own thoughts.

She’s hiding a grin behind her thick wavy hair as she sits down.

“You look happy,” Felicity comments lightly. She hopes maybe her friend’s energy can work its way to her.

“I am,” Dinah says with a shy grin, tucking her hair behind an ear. “I actually have been for a while and I couldn’t tell you why.”

Felicity finds herself smiling, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. Whatever good news that’s got Dinah’s cheeks getting a workout is infectious.

She sits up straighter.

“Tell me, tell me,” she says quickly, clapping her hands together.

Dinah opens her mouth to explain, but instead a giggle comes out.

A giggle.

Felicity didn’t even know she could _do that._

“Okay, now you _have to_ tell me. Come on, spill.”

“Okay so,” Dinah presses her lips together, as though trying to piece the story together in her head, “You might have noticed that I’ve been a little distant this year.”

Felicity snorts, because if anyone’s guilty of being the distant friend, it’s probably been her.

“We both haven’t had a lot of time for each other,” she says diplomatically.

“Right,” Dinah takes a deep breath, “I’m seeing someone.”

Felicity’s eyebrows fly to her hairline.

“Wow,” she says, and Dinah giggles again.

The feeling is indeed as infectious as she had hoped. She watches her friend grinning uncontrollably and finds herself equally happy. She lets the warm feeling wash over her, a welcome relief from the past few weeks.

“Who?”

Dinah hesitates. Her lips press together as she tries to fight _another_ blinding grin.

“Tommy Merlyn!” she gushes.

And just like that – the light feeling is gone, cold horror washing over Felicity.

Her smile stays frozen in place, though it feels like the bench underneath her is tilting. She blinks, trying to will the lightness away from her head.

Dinah continues, blissfully ignorant to Felicity’s internal spiral.

“It happened way back on the train ride into school, actually – but we weren’t really serious, so I didn’t want to tell you – please don’t be mad!” she says hurriedly, misreading Felicity’s sudden silence.

Felicity shakes her head almost reflexively.

“I’m not mad,” she says, though it sounds distant and hollow in her own ears.

“It wasn’t even serious until, like, a few weeks ago,” Dinah continues, and something about her words pull Felicity back.

“A few weeks ago?” her voice wavers a little more than she’d prefer, so she forces herself to steady it, “What changed?”

Dinah twists her fingers together.

“The day you were in the hospital,” she admits. “When we had to pretend like we didn’t know each other. Tommy found me after and said he didn’t want to sneak around anymore.”

Felicity finds herself very glad that she didn’t eat her lunch just then, because she’s sure that it would be finding its way back up right about now.

“I’m sorry, I hated hiding it from you, but it’s worked out now! I mean, Tommy and Oliver are best friends, it’s so perfect.”

Right. Dinah doesn’t know that Oliver and Felicity aren’t really on speaking terms right now. She doesn’t know it’s because of her new boyfriend, apparently. Who tried to kill Felicity not that long ago.

Dinah doesn’t know anything Felicity’s dealt with this year. Felicity wonders how distracted she’s let herself become that she didn’t notice that she was losing her best friend since the very same train ride she met Oliver on.

Dinah looks downright _giddy_ next to Felicity, who suddenly feels exhausted. This revelation becomes too much for her.

So, she forces a weak smile.

“I’m really happy for you, Di,” she says, “Listen, I just remembered I have to meet with a teacher about the work I missed. I’ll catch you later?”

Dinah, still apparently caught up in her newfound lovestruck status, nods.

"I'm really glad I could finally tell you this, Felicity," Dinah says with a smile. Felicity can only nod meekly in response.

She wastes no time in gathering all of her things and pushing out of the Great Hall.

When she shoves her way past the entrance, her feet start to move faster against the floor until she’s running.

She doesn’t know where she’s going at first, she just knows she needs to get away. A few heads turn at her, she thinks a teacher might even reprimand her for running in the halls, but none of it registers in that moment.

Tommy got to Dinah.

He had been using her best friend for _months_ , deceiving Dinah into thinking he wanted her when instead he was likely fishing for any information he could.

It makes her physically ill. Before she can think to stop it, her mind begins to conjure the images.

Tommy being charming, throwing one of those smiles to Dinah’s way. Dinah wouldn’t be interested at first, but Tommy Merlyn is a notorious flirt, and eventually he’d find his way into Dinah’s good graces.

Felicity shakes her head, trying to rid the images as they play behind her eyes.

They don’t stop. She can just _imagine_ it. _Sneaking around,_ that’s what Dinah had said. Stealing a few moments here and there, so harmless Dinah wouldn’t even realize what he was doing.

Did he make her feel good? Make her feel _loved?_ Did he ask about Felicity, or did her friend’s openness and penchant for storytelling do that all on their own? How much did he know?

It’s too much. Tommy took her boyfriend away, her sense of peace and safety in her home away from home, and now he got her best friend too. He’s creeped his way into every aspect of her life, but no more.

Finally, Felicity realizes she’s stopped running. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she tries to catch her breath.

She’s on the third floor, facing a familiar memorial plaque that lists the casualties in the Battle of Hogwarts.

And just like that, she knows what she needs to do.

She traces the edges of the plaque once, twice, until the passageway reveals itself.

She stares into the plunging darkness. And she takes a step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’M SORRY about the Tommy/Dinah thing. I’ve dropped hints here and there since the first chapter, so I was really excited to finally let that one out (also totally planned that before the Vinny stuff happened on the show so don't get ideas). 
> 
> Eight chapters left!!!!
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	18. Blind Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where everyone’s skipping class and John is Diggle the Wise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I’m sorry I skipped a week in updating, but I hit a bit of a wall with this chapter and wasn’t too happy with it. In any case, I hope you enjoy it.

Oliver Queen has a problem.

A giant, colossal, incredible, heartburn inducing problem.

He can’t find Felicity anywhere.

After his conversation with Tommy on the bridge, Oliver set off to look for her, to apologize, for one, and to tell her everything Tommy said to him, for another.

He’d also have to throw in a “you were right” in there for good measure.

He tries the Great Hall first, which is bustling with students at the lunch hour. His eyes sift through the crowds desperately trying to find the familiar flash of blonde hair, with no luck.

He finds Dinah on her way out and stops her.

“Dinah,” he tries not to sound so desperate, “Have you seen Felicity?”

Dinah nods.

“She was just here, but she had to go meet a professor over some missed work, sorry.”

Damn, okay. He can work with that.

He looks to the staff table to try and figure out which professor is missing, and which office he can wait outside.

He counts one… two... _Damn,_ all twenty teachers are up there.

Which means she lied.

Oliver’s starting to feel a _little_ more than nervous.

When he sees Tommy entering the Great Hall for lunch, he averts his eyes and makes his way back towards the door.

At least now Oliver knows that, wherever she is, she’s far away from _him._

The hallways are mostly empty now, and he tries to think fast.

He makes his way to the Ravenclaw Common Room, hoping that someone will be around to either let him in or look for her inside.

Unfortunately for Oliver, the only person who he’s able to catch is Ray Palmer. It’s kind of irritating how this guy keeps popping up everywhere, but Oliver can’t afford to question the little blessings.

“Palmer, I’m looking for Felicity, do you think you can see if she’s in the Common Room?”

Palmer nods slowly, looking at him up and down, and briefly Oliver wonders if his question came out too aggressive, but he also finds that he can’t care.

“Sure,” he says, his usual sunny disposition missing.

“Thank you,” Oliver calls out as he disappears behind the door. As he waits, he paces back and forth in the hallway, hoping to god that maybe Felicity went up to her room because she wasn’t feeling well.

It takes maybe ten minutes for Palmer to come back, looking grim.

“She’s not in there, Queen.”

“Okay, do you think she’s in her room?”

“You know I wouldn’t be able to go up there. But I ran into her roommate, Alena, and asked. She wasn’t.”

Oliver feels his heart sink. But okay, that’s okay. The castle is big, she could be anywhere.

He tries the hospital wing next – she might have needed a refill on her potion – with no luck. Her usual desk in the far corner of the library, empty.

Eventually, the lunch hour ends, and Oliver finds himself, instead of going to his afternoon Charms class, walking towards where he knows Felicity would have Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He lingers outside as students file in, trying not to draw too much attention to himself and the way he makes a note of all the people who enter.

Ten minutes into the period he finally gives up, accepting that he won’t find her there.

Felicity’s skipping class. Which is something she’d _never_ do. Armed with the knowledge that Tommy’s dangerous self still walks the castle, Oliver feels increasingly nervous that he hasn’t been able to locate Felicity.

She’s missing.

* * *

It takes Felicity about ten minutes in the passageway to realize that maybe she underestimated it.

It’s dark, her only source of light is the tip of her wand. She’s lucky that the path is more or less straight, only winding occasionally. She thinks she might have seen a mouse skate by her toes at one point, and then she made sure to keep her wand pointed firmly upwards.

It takes her about half an hour, she thinks, until she reaches her destination. Her face feels hot from the walk – there’s not a lot of circulation in the passageway. Her uniform robe quickly got balled up and thrown into her bag, although now her shoulder’s starting to hurt. She feels the skin on her underarms stick when as she walks. Ugh.

Eventually, the gross, creepy, sweaty walk ends up being worth it, because she finds herself at the end, where a winding set of stairs leads her to an alley.

She takes a moment to squint when she steps out into the daylight. The darkness of the passage made her forget that she fled school in the middle of lunch.

She leans on the gray stone wall of an unfamiliar building as the door shuts behind her.

Back in the sunlight, her actions finally start to sink in.

Maybe leaving the school, skipping class, not telling anyone where she is, wasn’t a good idea, after all.

Still, she came all this way, and if it didn’t work out for her then, well, what’s another loss?

Or, that’s what she tells herself when she knocks on the door of The Foundry.

John opens the door, eyebrows furrowing when he sees her.

“Hi,” she says, her voice slightly out of breath, “Uh, can we talk? I know we don’t really – like – know each other that well, but would that be okay?”

He nods, eyes tracing over her face briefly before looking at the empty space behind her.

“Of course it would be, Felicity, but uh,” he squints at her a little, “Oliver’s not with you?”

She shakes her head, loose strands that escaped her ponytail brushing along her face.

“Oliver doesn’t know I’m here.”

Diggle opens the door wider, giving her space to enter.

“It’s the middle of the day,” he notes as they walk inside, his voice sounding oddly like an older sibling’s reprimands (or at least, what Felicity would assume that sounds like), “Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

Felicity twists her fingers together uncomfortably.

“Can we just sit down somewhere?”

Diggle nods again, pursing his lips together. He gestures towards his office.

Briefly, as they enter the room, Felicity feels nervous being alone with one of Oliver’s friends – because, well, that worked out so well for her last time – but she pushes the feeling down. Diggle’s been helping them uncover everything about the Death Eaters. She knows she can trust him.

When they sit, he leans back in his chair.

“You look better. I heard the fall was pretty nasty,” he comments casually, “How are you feeling?”

“That’s actually what I had come here to talk about,” she says. “About my fall.”

Diggle’s eyebrows knit together, but he smooths them over quickly.

“Okay,” he says easily.

Felicity starts to feel better and better about her plan to talk to John. This is what she likes about him – he doesn’t push her or expect anything of her. He knows she wants to talk and waits patiently for her to come around to it on her own terms.

“Do you remember our suspicions that someone was inside Hogwarts, working with the outside?”

Diggle nods, sitting straighter in his chair.

“The day I was hurt… it wasn’t just slip down the stairs,” she takes a deep breath, “It was Tommy Merlyn.”

It’s only the second time she’s had to admit the truth out loud, but she finds this one vastly easier than the last. John is nothing like Oliver, he watches her carefully and doesn’t immediately start explaining why she could be wrong.

It’s why she has the confidence to carry on.

“I think he wanted it to look like an accident, but I wasn’t supposed to land just one floor down. I was supposed to…” she trails off, one hand in the air, “Yeah. But I think he’s been working with his father, and other Death Eaters, and his job was to get rid of me but he couldn’t quite do it, for whatever reason.”

As she carries on, Diggle’s silence starts to feel less comforting and more worrying. A dark look crosses over his features and she worries for the first time that he doesn’t believe her, after all.

“And what does Oliver say about all of his?”

Felicity presses her lips inwards.

“Oliver needs a little more time processing it,” she says, her voice cracking at the end of her explanation.

“When did you tell him?”

“About a week ago.”

Diggle curses under his breath, pushing out of his chair. He walks over to a shelf situated behind his desk and begins sifting through the files.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Felicity fears that he’s going down the same path Oliver did – and really, why shouldn’t he? He doesn’t know Felicity all that well, he doesn’t have any reason to believe what she’s saying is true.

Still, she waits.

He pulls out a pair of envelopes from in a file that looks like it’s filled with bills and receipts related to The Foundry’s business.

“I had been sitting on this for two weeks, when I found out you were hurt, so I wanted to wait. Besides, I wasn’t sure myself how Oliver would respond.”

He opens one of the envelopes, sitting down in his chair again. A normal, harmless looking letter falls out.

“Diggle?”

“I had to call in a favor or two, or Lyla did, and got someone intercept mail going in and out of Hogwarts. Just the entire staff, and a few other people that I thought would be suspicious. Someone related to Malcolm Merlyn, for example, was on my radar.”

Felicity raises her eyebrows.

“I didn’t want to tell Oliver,” he continues, “Because I didn’t think he’d appreciate the invasion of privacy, and maybe it was wrong of me to go that far, but I did find something.”

He hands the letter to Felicity to read for herself.

It’s nothing too suspicious upon first glance, but she learns quickly to read between the lines.

_March 4, 2018_

_Hi dad,_

_I hope this letter finds you well._

_The school year has been going alright. The school project I told you about that was giving me trouble around Christmas is handled._

_I look forward to seeing you on the Easter holidays._

_Tommy._

Felicity can’t help but notice the date, the very same day Felicity spent in the hospital.

It doesn’t take her long to figure out what project he’s talking about.

The letter from Malcolm is dated earlier, just a week before Tommy’s confrontation with Felicity.

_Tommy,_

_I understand you are having trouble with one of your projects this year. Remember you can always turn to your professors for help, but make sure that in the end you get the job done. Merlyns don’t quit._

_If you need assistance, don’t hesitate to reach out._

_Dad._

It’s a strange thing to read, maybe her hindsight bias makes the codes father and son speak in so transparent.

She lifts her head from the letters to see that Diggle is still wearing that grim expression.

“So you see it too?” she says, feeling her spirits lift for the first time in ages.

Diggle nods.

“I didn’t want to, but I was suspicious for a while. And these letters on their own were nothing to go on, just a little strange, but I’m still tracking Malcolm’s movements, and with what you just told me….”

He trails off.

“This is great,” she starts to smile, but stops herself, “I mean, it’s not great, it’s awful, but it’s great that you can see it too.”

Diggle looks at her for too long, not saying anything, and she starts to wonder what she’s said wrong this time.

“So now that we’ve cleared that up,” he says, his tone changing to something that makes Felicity nervous, “Do you want to talk about why you left the castle to come over here in the middle of the afternoon on a school day?”

Felicity winces, feeling oddly caught. She should have known that this part was coming, but she’d hoped that the Merlyn of it all would take precedence and he’d forget.

Apparently not.

“I couldn’t be in there any longer,” she says simply, playing with a loose thread on her uniform top. “I just needed to get away.”

“You know, Felicity,” Diggle says conversationally, “I’ve known Oliver along time. I know sometimes he doesn’t put his logic first, and sometimes his emotions get to the best of him.”

Felicity doesn’t say anything, instead focusing on untightening the sudden knot in her throat.

“I know from experience that he doesn’t take bad news very well, and sometimes he’ll say things he regrets before he closes into himself.”

“That’s your answer? It’s just the way he is?” Felicity finally glances up at Diggle. “He barely looks me in the eye these days, John, and he hasn’t said a word to me since I told him,” her voice is low and dangerously shaky. The panic she felt earlier when she fled Hogwarts starts to rise up in her chest again, but she forces it away. She won’t break down again.

“I know, I never said he was perfect,” he says. “Trust me, that is his way of processing. I went to visit his house after the news of his father’s murder broke, and he wasn’t like himself at all. And believe me, he hates that part that makes him clam up into himself, but he just needs you to be a little patient until he can come around. Do you think you can do that?”

Felicity nods hesitantly.

“I’ve just been worried of losing him forever.”

“You won’t,” Diggle says simply.

Felicity takes another deep breath – something she finds herself doing in this emotionally heavy conversation.

“He has my best friend, too. Tommy, I mean. Her name is Dinah. I thought she was acting a little strange this year, but earlier today she told me they –” she breaks off, frowning bitterly as she recalls the conversation.

Diggle nods, reaching the conclusion she can’t voice on his own.

“He spent… _all year_ , probably just using her for information on me, stuff my own father probably can’t tell them. And I just – when she told me that, it was the last straw. I needed to talk to someone.”

“I’m glad you came here, Felicity, you can always talk to me. And, I hate to ask, but, this friend of yours…” Diggle hesitates.

“We can trust her,” Felicity says automatically, “Her grandparents are Muggles, she’d never – I mean, she’s my best friend, she can’t hurt a fly.”

Diggle leans back in his chair, eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” Felicity’s shoulders sink.

“I’m sure you’re right about your friend,” Diggle rises from his chair, “But just to give you an idea of what it felt like for him.”

“You’re right,” she starts to get up as well, “I should probably head back to the castle.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Diggle says, “I’m not letting you leave here without something to eat, because, and don’t take this the wrong way, Felicity, but you look like hell.”

She laughs – a short, harsh sound, as she sits back down.

“You’re not entirely wrong.”

They don’t talk much as Diggle prepares and serves her a sandwich – which she manages to finish pretty quickly. She finds her appetite returns now that she doesn’t have a weight pressing down on her chest anymore.

As he walks her out, he places a hand on her shoulder.

“Felicity, remember what I said,” he says quietly, “If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me.”

Felicity feels tears spring up in her eyes not for the first time today, but for the first time in a while that she’s felt so touched.

She fights the urge to reach out and hug him. She doesn’t think they’re quite at hug territory yet, but she’s hoping they will be.

When she walks back into the castle, the passageway doesn’t feel so daunting now.

She feels miles better than she did before. It feels good to be able to talk to someone – a non-Oliver someone – who understands everything that’s been going on this year.

And it helps that Diggle gave her a little bit of insight on how Oliver’s been acting lately. It’s why, when she returns to the castle, she’ll be more ready to give him the time that he needs.

* * *

Oliver quickly decides he doesn’t need to attend the rest of his classes today. Even if he did, he hardly thinks he’ll be able to focus without knowing where Felicity is.

After he lingers outside her class for a few minutes, he decides to take another round about the castle before letting himself panic.

As he passes by the entrance hall, the door to the Slytherin Common Room makes him pause for a moment.

It’s still the middle of the day, the area is completely deserted as most people are in class right now, so he has no way of getting in.

He shouldn’t, anyway. He should continue looking for Felicity.

A voice from behind makes him freeze.

“Ollie?”

Oliver turns around, feeling oddly caught.

“Speedy,” he says lightly, “Why aren’t you in class?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she retorts, and Oliver clenches his jaw. There’s a lecture fighting to fall off the tip of his tongue. But now’s not really the time to be a big brother about it.

“Fair enough,” he looks around, knowing this is probably his only chance, “I need you to let me into the common room, please?”

Thea raises an eyebrow.

“Why?”

Oliver decides quickly that half of the truth is better than nothing.

“I need to get into Tommy’s room,” he says simply, “I let him borrow my gloves for Quidditch a few weeks ago and he still hasn’t given them back. And you know Tommy, if I don’t get them myself I’ll never see them again.”

Thea mulls over his explanation for a moment and apparently it’s enough for her.

“He’s probably still bitter that you guys beat us in the finals,” she comments, moving around Oliver to face the door, “ _Carpe noctem.”_

The common room is, predictably, empty, and Oliver is grateful. The last thing he needs is whispers about Oliver Queen snooping around outside his own house, especially if the word got back to Tommy.

He’ll probably have to tell Thea at one point not to mention it either.

Shit.

He’s spent enough time with Tommy to be able to locate his dorm room, and the distinct pile of clothes and general disarray makes it easy for him to figure out which bed is his.

Standing over his bed, Oliver finds himself frozen in place.

It occurs to him that he never actually planned this far, never thought of what he’d do if he got into Tommy’s room. He wasn’t even counting on Thea walking by at all.

He starts with the table next to Tommy’s bed. It’s hard to look for something when you don’t quite know _what_ you’re looking for.

As he gently pulls the drawer back and begins to rummage through the mess, his ear picks up the sound of a door slamming.

Immediately, he straightens his back, worried that he’ll surely be caught. His neck snaps to the door of the dorm room when he realizes that the sound must have come from outside.

He waits, listens as footsteps sound farther away after a moment and lets himself sigh in relief.

Given a moment to pause, Oliver has to fight the guilt that threatens to creep up his chest as he realizes what he’s doing. It’s a violation of his childhood best friend’s privacy, and he knows if Tommy found him he wouldn’t be too happy.

But Oliver needs to be sure. He has to find something - _anything_ \- that will confirm his suspicions.

Either way, he knows this is something he won’t be able to come back from.

Deep in his drawers, past old tests and essays from before Christmas, Oliver finds a crumpled page – torn at the sides, as though ripped out of a book, on how to create portkeys. He frowns. Portkeys are something they learned about a few years ago, it’s strange that Tommy would have something like this.

His eyes trail over the dates for the schoolwork around this page. All of it is in December, right before Oliver was taken from the school by death eaters.

He never did figure out how he disappeared from the castle that day.

His hand clenches around the page, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

Now he _really_ needs to find Felicity.

* * *

It’s likely well into afternoon classes by the time Felicity returns to the castle, and strangely she doesn’t find herself too bothered by it.

She decides that the rest of the day is a write-off, turning instead towards the direction of her Common Room to head to her dorm early.

As she reaches, she sees a familiar figure leaning on the wall with his head in his hands.

It makes her steps falter for a second, but she immediately recovers.

As she approaches the bronzed eagle, his head snaps up from its place.

Tired eyes meet hers.

“Felicity,” he breathes out. It’s probably the first word he’s said to her in a long time and it makes her heart clench.

He rakes his eyes over her, as though checking for injuries, and then his relieved expression quickly disappears into one of anger.

“Where _the hell_ were you?” he demands.

Felicity’s eyes widen at his abrupt change in tone.

“I –“

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” he continues, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “Dinah said you were meeting with a teacher, but I knew you weren’t, and then you went and skipped your classes.”

Oliver pushes off the wall and starts pacing, fingers pointed out as he counts off an invisible list.

“I know you’d never do that, so I searched _every inch_ of this castle twice. I thought something happened to you – something terrible, do you understand? I was about to go to Waller’s office to report you missing if I didn’t find you by dinner. Where did you go?”

“The Foundry,” Felicity says quickly, caught off guard at this uncharacteristic ramble. “I just… I needed some air, and I wanted to get away for a while. So I used the passage. Went to see Diggle.”

Oliver’s shoulders fall.

“Oh.”

As his outburst settles in the air, they’re left with nothing but an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” she says awkwardly, playing with the frame of her glasses.

“No,” Oliver says quickly, his anger dissolved and his voice back to a softer one. “Don’t be. It’s just… with everything that’s happened lately I got scared.”

“Right.”

“I talked to Tommy,” he finally says, and Felicity finds herself tensing again, “I… started to pay attention to what he said, how he was acting, remembered some stuff from the summer… And then I saw some stuff…”

He trails off with a shake of his head, as though trying to collect his thoughts.

“Felicity,” he looks up at her, those tired eyes shining now, “I’m _so_ sorry I didn’t believe you, I should have. But I see it now. I’m sorry I shut you out for the past week, especially with what you went though.”

“Oliver, it’s okay, I get it, he’s your best friend.”

“He was,” Oliver corrects her, “And I let it become a blind spot. Not anymore. Not after he hurt you.”

Felicity nods. The silence settles over them again.

“Are we –” Oliver pauses, “I mean, I’m sorry, and I’d understand if you’re still upset with me, you have every right to be, but –”

“Oliver.”

Felicity finds herself taking the first step forward, and when she does the worry melts off Oliver’s face.

They meet in the middle. It’s not a glorious reconciliation, not particularly dramatic or earth tilting. The music doesn’t swell at that moment and the lights don’t dim.

But when hands cup her face, when his lips find hers again, it feels a little bit like coming home.

He is the first to pull away, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as they rest their foreheads together.

“What do we do now?” Felicity whispers.

“Now,” Oliver takes his hands in hers and squeezes tight, “We know what we’re up against. And we can start to fight back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven left! 
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> Thanks for reading
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	19. The Snake's Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OTA does some digging and break a few rules. It's become a typical Saturday night for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is plot heavy, which I always worry might be boring, so please just stick with me cause we’re gearing up for the Big Stuff!!

It’s Hogsmeade weekend.

Which, honestly, hasn’t mattered much to Oliver and Felicity when they’ve needed to go to The Foundry to see Diggle before.

But this time, it’s a welcome cover for them to visit their friend to discuss what they know about the past few weeks, without having to worry about what any prying eyes around the school might think.

Although it does pose a little bit of a problem, because in Diggle’s last letter he advised them to _prepare for a late night_ , which won’t exactly be easy given that they’re supposed to be back at Hogwarts by the evening.

When Oliver tells her this, why Felicity’s immediate reaction is _I’ll handle it,_ is beyond her.

But now she’s tasked with, well, handling it.

That big mouth of hers is really going to get her in trouble one day.

Breakfast, as it always is on Saturday mornings, is a little less crowded. But she’s known Dinah Drake for the past few years well enough to know that her friend is an early riser.

She lingers by the entrance of the Great Hall, watching her friend eat by herself and read over a magazine.

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thinks to herself as she marches forward.

When she reaches the empty spot next to Dinah, her friend looks up and smiles.

“Morning!” she says cheerfully, “Are you going to Hogsmeade today?”

Excellent, Dinah’s skipping right to the point before she needs to.

Felicity nods.

“I am. Oliver wanted to go check out a few things. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Dinah turns a page of her magazine idly.

“Yeah?”

Felicity’s stomach flips. Lying is bad enough, but this one is downright embarrassing. She’s not so sure if she can go through with it.

“I need you to do me a favor,” she forces out.

Dinah looks up from her page at the odd tone in Felicity’s voice, eyebrow raised.

“What kind of favor?” she says slowly.

Felicity starts to twist her fingers together in her lap.

“I need you to… cover for Oliver and me today when everyone’s supposed to be getting back from Hogsmeade.”

Dinah’s eyebrows knit together.

“Why?”

Felicity purses her lips together. Now or never.

“We’re going to be… staying there a little bit late.”

“Felicity,” Dinah straightens up, “You’re acting weird, is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Felicity answers a little too fast, and so she forces her voice into a calmer tone, “I promise. We just….”

She presses her eyes together. Three… two…. one….

“Oliver wants to take me to the Shrieking Shack tonight,” she rushes out, so fast that the whole sentence might have come out like one word, “So we can be… alone.”

She pauses at the appropriate time, eyes widening a touch and biting her lip shyly.

It does the trick.

“Oh,” Dinah blinks. Then her jaw drops, “ _Oh_.”

Despite having practiced this several times in front of the bathroom mirror ten minutes ago, Felicity feels her face start to burn.

It’s pretty well known to the general population now that the Shrieking Shack was never _actually_ the haunted building it was rumored to be. Now, it only remains up because no one can be bothered to take it down.

Instead, older Hogwarts students have taken to using it for… other purposes.

The insinuation of what this means for her evening plans is the cause of the intense mortification Felicity’s feeling right now.

“Wow,” Dinah says with a grin. “Good for you, Smoak! Shrieking Shack, that’s kind of wild, but I dig it. And don’t worry, I’ll totally cover for you crazy kids.”

Dinah playfully punches her on the shoulder, and Felicity wishes for nothing more than a ditch to hide in right about now.

“Anyway,” she pushes the embarrassment aside, “Please don’t tell anyone about it, I really don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Of course,” Dinah says simply.

“Not even your… boyfriend,” Felicity has to choke the last word out

“Tommy?” Dinah furrows her eyebrows, “I won’t tell him, but you know he’s Oliver’s best friend, he might find out anyway.”

Felicity keeps a wan smile on her face.

“Oh I don’t think so, Oliver and I agreed we wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m a little embarrassed about it.”

“I’ll say,” Dinah scoffs, “I’ve never seen you this red in my life.”

Felicity’s cheeks burn more, if at all possible.

“So,” Dinah starts to smirk, “Are you nervous?”

“Okay,” Felicity gets up, “I gotta get going.”

“Do you need tips? Advice?” she presses, and then her eyes widen, “Wait, is this even the first time?”

“Goodbye, Dinah,” Felicity’s ears feel so hot she wonders if steam is going to start coming out of them. She practically runs out of the Great Hall.

Once she exits, she finds Oliver waiting by the Entrance Hall, picking at a hangnail absently while he waits for her.

“It’s handled,” she says simply once she approaches him.

“What did you tell her?” Oliver asks curiously, perhaps noticing Felicity’s uncharacteristically flushed face.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Felicity waves her hand and tries to sound casual. “Just know that she’ll cover for us if we get back late.”

They begin to walk out of the castle and onto the path leading to Hogsmeade.

“I should know our cover story in case I run into her, don’t you think?” he presses.

Felicity fights the urge to curse. She knows she won’t be able to get out of this one, but it’s really the fruit of her own doing.

“I may have told her that you’re taking me to the Shrieking Shack,” she says, trying to keep her expression even.

As the words register, Oliver’s eyes widen, and he misses a rock in his path, skidding briefly on the dirt.

“Oh,” he says simply as he straightens up.

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s… that’s good,” he says, “I mean, good because it’s believable. _Not_ that I think it’s believable because I expect it, but ….”

Now Felicity finds herself grinning.

“It’s a good cover,” he finally says.

“Thanks, I thought it was a pretty decent one myself,” she wrinkles her nose. “Although, Shrieking Shack is _super_ trashy. Not really the most romantic joint. It doesn’t exactly make us look good, does it?”

“It’s fine, we know the truth. And besides, you don’t need to worry,” he throws an arm around her and leans down to whisper into her ear, “If the time comes, it would be _much_ better than the Shrieking Shack.”

This time, it’s Felicity’s step that falters.

* * *

It takes them a little longer to get to The Foundry than usual. They take a slight detour when they pass by the Shrieking Shack and Oliver has to pause to burst out into laughter, apparently finding Felicity’s excuse hilarious with time.

At least someone does.

In all honesty, if it makes him smile she doesn’t mind. After their conversation outside the Ravenclaw Common Room, things felt jilted for a while there. They resumed their relationship, but everything Oliver did seemed like it came with a moment of second guessing. He hesitated before taking her hand, he paused before kisses, as though to make sure that everything he was doing was _okay._

Also, he apologized a lot. Like, to the point of driving Felicity insane.

There was one particular night, in the library, when Felicity was just trying to go over a few hard concepts in Arithmancy when, out of nowhere –

“Felicity,” he said in a grave voice, as though he was about to deliver the news of a tragic pet death.

“What’s wrong?” she furrowed her eyebrows. “You have your stressed-face on.”

“About what happened, with Tommy,” he started, and she immediately sighed. She should have known.

“Oliver, we’ve been over this,” she said, “You were confused, you needed time.”

“That still didn’t give me a right to shut you out,” he insisted, “Not after you were hurting. And I could see it in your face, everyday, how much it upset you and –”

“Oliver,” she took his hand patiently, “I don’t want us to keep circling back to this. It happened, we can’t take it back. I forgive you, okay?”

He nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good,” she leaned up to peck his lips before shoving him gently and pulling her books forward, “Now, stop distracting me, I have a test coming up.”

He shook his head and chuckled, “ _That_ certainly hasn’t changed.”

Still, despite that conversation, she could still see the tension in Oliver’s shoulders, the guilt that would flash when she mentioned pain in her arm or her head, or the barely sustained anger when he would see Tommy in the hallway.

 _That_ was another thing they had to talk about. They both decided that Oliver pretending everything was okay with Tommy would work to their advantage, for now. Unfortunately, Oliver had a little bit of trouble controlling his angry-face every time he saw his former best friend.

They’re working on it, though.

It’s the entire reason they need to go to The Foundry at all, today, to figure out all the pieces they’ve individually landed on and what to do with everything next.

When they reach The Foundry, Diggle is already waiting with some food. Unfortunately for them, there’s a few other patrons hanging out in a corner booth, which makes it hard for the three to jump into the business they came for.

Instead, Diggle has to play the part of unassuming restaurant owner and keeps his conversation with Oliver and Felicity light. To keep busy, Oliver keeps ordering a few drinks here and there and Felicity pulls out some homework and starts reading while seated at the bar.

A few other customers come and go, and it’s only until the late afternoon that the shop empties and Diggle flips the sign on the door.

“Okay,” he says, pulling his office door open, “I warned you guys that we’re going to be here late, right?”

Felicity coughs just as Oliver freezes while pulling out a chair for her.

“Yup,” she says quickly, “We took care of that.”

“What are we going to be doing here so late anyway, Dig?” Oliver jumps in, cutting off a nervous ramble Felicity was gearing up for.

“We’ve got a few things to go on here, between the three of us, but we need more. I want to take you guys to an area of Muggle London where I know some wizards who want to lay low like to meet up. Lyla’s been monitoring Malcolm Merlyn and he goes there every other day. He should be there tonight.”

Oliver nods.

“So we’re going to trail him?”

“Exactly,” Diggle says, “We have some stuff, but Lyla and I think there’s a bigger plan that Darhk has here, and we just can’t seem to figure out what it is. We need to start putting all these pieces from the past year together.”

He looks between Oliver and Felicity carefully.

“You two okay with going off campus? It’s breaking at least ten rules.”

Oliver looks to Felicity, knowing that between the two of them he’s probably the one with more rules broken under his belt, and definitely far more detentions.

She doesn’t need to think twice.

“Let’s do it.”

* * *

Diggle doesn’t want to risk Apparating with the three of them, so they take the Floo network into a neighboring building that he knows is empty.

By the time they get to Muggle London, the sun has already begun its descent.

“Okay,” Diggle turns to both of them in a grave voice, “Lyla has given me these devices from the Ministry, but we have to give them back, so _don’t_ break them.”

He hands them two small devices, no bigger than Felicity’s finger nail, and so thin it feels like a sticker.

“Put it behind your ear,” Diggle instructs, “Considering these idiots think no wizards are in this part of town, they won’t put any charms on the building and we’ll be able to hear everything they’re saying, provided we’re in a certain distance.”

Felicity places the device as told, and it comes on easily. She suddenly finds that the sound of a car splashing into a puddle outside is amplified. John leads them out of the building to a mostly empty street, where a lot of the shops are boarded up or already closed for the night.

Diggle points out the building that the Death Eaters supposedly meet at, a boarded up pub, with a worn down sign that says _The Snake’s Head._

She tries not to snort. How very on the nose.

“Where are we going to be waiting out while they’re meeting?” Felicity asks curiously.

Oliver looks around the street and freezes. His eyes slide over to Felicity in guilt.

“What?” she asks,

“We’re going to be on the roof,” Diggle answers.

She has to suppress a groan. Heights.

“Great.”

Oliver takes her hand once Diggle walks ahead of them and leans down to whisper in her ear.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to catch you this time.”

“No whispering sweet nothings behind my back, kids,” Diggle calls out before Felicity can respond, and she finds herself blushing.

They settle on the roof which, admittedly, isn’t so bad. But it is cold, and getting colder as the last remaining bits of the sunset fade away into the night sky. Unprompted, and cognizant of her reaction to the temperature, Oliver drapes his leather jacket on top of Felicity’s own.

Eventually, they hear a _pop_ at the end of the street. Two men with hoods drawn low on their faces walk towards The Snake’s Head and tap their wands against the boards.

“It should be starting soon, get down,” Diggle says.

Thanks to their listening devices, she can hear clearly as the two men grumble and make their way in.

“You’re late, Merlyn,” someone comments.

“My apologies,” Malcolm replies, and Oliver stills next to Felicity, and she understands why. The device makes it sound as though they’re speaking directly into their ears, and for Oliver, the familiar voice must be discomforting, “I’ve been trying to handle things on the Ministry front, unlike you all who like to hang out in this Muggle neighborhood all day and cause trouble.”

“Hey now, we’ve been doing important things too,” another argues.

“I’m sure you do, Rowle. Destroying Muggle establishments is difficult work,” Malcolm drawls, “In any case, I’m sorry I’m late, but you’ll be happy to know that the announcement will be everywhere first thing Monday morning.”

“An announcement that’s two months behind schedule,” Rowle retorts.

There’s a shifting of clothing, and someone sighs.

“Well, if you all hadn’t _insisted_ on killing Robert Queen when he refused to join us, we would have had more time. That mess has taken forever to clean up.”

“That was necessary,” someone else – a female voice – argues.

“Necessary?” Malcolm laughs, “Which part? The one where the Ministry was looking into it for months? The one where you idiots decided to try and target his wife and son and draw even _more_ attention to us?”

Oliver shifts around, rubbing his hands together uncomfortably. Felicity can tell that the answers they’re starting to get make Oliver feel restless.

“Targeting the boy was necessary,” Rowle says, “We needed to know if his father told him anything before he died, if he could risk the entire operation. And now we know. Besides, Merlyn, you should be more focused on _your_ mission.”

“I already told you, the news will be hitting _The Daily Prophet_ tomorrow morning.”

“Not that,” the other man argues, “Your boy, Tommy. Darhk trusts him with one job, after your insistence that he be a part of this, and he couldn’t even follow through with it. He couldn’t kill the girl.”

Instinctively, Diggle moves closer to Felicity, and Oliver takes her hand.

“He may not have killed her,” Malcolm says dismissively, “But she’s injured enough, and rest assured it definitely had its intended effect in distancing her from the Queen boy. Besides, it worked, because hearing the girl was hurt has made Kuttler made more… compliant to our cause.”

Felicity finds herself struggling to swallow.

So that’s why she nearly died. To make her father more _compliant_. That’s what her life is worth.

Diggle leans in.

“If anything feels to hard for you to hear,” he whispers, “Take your listening device off, you don’t need to hear all of it, that’s why we’re here.”

She shakes her head instantly.

“I need to hear what else they have to say.”

The voices below their feet continue.

“This is true,” Rowle reasons, “Kuttler’s been finding out more about how to make The Undertaking successful.”

“Good,” Malcolm says, “Then Tommy’s done his job and proven his loyalty.”

“You raised a good son, Malcolm,” the unfamiliar female voice comments again, “Your boy will be good for us, especially during The Undertaking.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bertinelli,” Malcolm replies, “Will that be all for tonight? I do need to get going.”

“You just hate being in Muggle London,” one voice pipes up, and the small group laughs.

“Can you blame me? I feel filthy just _thinking_ about how much time we’ve spent here.”

The group all laughs more, and one by one the _pop_ sounds indicate that all of the Death Eaters have disapparated out of the building.

Oliver, Felicity and Diggle sit in silence for a few moments. No one makes any moves and no one dares to be the first to speak. In the distance, Felicity can hear the familiar whine of a police siren and the sound of cars whirring on the roads, but all she can think about is what she just heard.

Eventually, the wind picks up and she shudders involuntarily.

“Come on, we need to get back to Hogsmeade,” Diggle finally says, “And talk about what just happened.”

They climb down the fire escape off the roof one by one – Diggle first, Felicity after and Oliver right behind her. They quietly go to the same abandoned building with the fireplace they came in from, and returned to Diggle’s office in no time.

Diggle peels off his ear piece and sits down at his desk.

“You guys hungry?”

Both Oliver and Felicity shake their heads and sit down with him. Felicity doesn’t think she could stomach anything right now even if she wanted to.

“So…” Felicity tries to say lightly, “That was informative.”

Diggle gives her a half smile, but Oliver just rubs his chin, deep in thought.

“What the hell is the Undertaking?”

“We don’t know that yet,” Diggle says patiently, “There was a lot there that we did find out, let’s work through it.”

“Well, we don’t need to doubt anything about Malcolm and Tommy anymore,” Oliver says with an edge of bitterness, “Or my father’s death. They wanted him to join. He never did. And they –”

He shakes his head. Felicity reaches out and grabs his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must have felt like to hear.”

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, “Now we know. We always knew it was _something._ In a way, I’m happy that he never joined them. I could have been like Tommy.”

The thought makes her shudder. She can’t imagine this school year without having met and grown so close to Oliver. He’s not just her boyfriend, he’s one of her best friends.

Diggle pulls them back in.

“We also know there’s going to be some kind of announcement made on Monday,” he says, “This could be huge. It shows that, for whatever reason, Darhk and his people feel like they’re ready to take control now, after _years_ of hiding in the shadows.”

“That could be related to whatever the Undertaking is,” Felicity crosses her arms, “But we have… no idea.”

“Guess we’ll just have to wait for _The Daily Prophet_ to tell us,” Oliver comments with an edge of frustration in his voice. He never was the most patient one.

“We know whatever it is has been in the works for a long time, and that Merlyn was supposed to have it done months ago,” Diggle says. “We also know that the other Death Eaters don’t seem too happy with him.”

“That might just be their default setting,” Felicity comments, “I don’t think any of them are actually _fond_ of one another.”

Diggle cracks a smile, and she silently cheers.

“In any case, we just need to wait it out and monitor what their next move will be. Hopefully it’ll give us a lead that we can take to the Ministry and work this out the right way.”

He looks between Oliver and Felicity again. She’s really starting to hate when he does that, she feels like a little sister who’s in trouble.

“Now that we know things are happening soon, and the two of you are directly on the Death Eater’s radar, we need to talk about defense.”

Felicity furrows her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”  

“You’re right,” Oliver says, “I don’t like how those guys are using Felicity as a tool against her father.”

Felicity shifts uncomfortably. She’d been trying very hard not to focus on that little bit.

“It’s probably not as bad as you’re thinking,” she waves a hand dismissively, “Soon they’ll realize that he hasn’t seen me in years, and the bargaining power won’t last.”

Oliver gives her a look she can’t quite place, and it makes her fidget in her seat.

“Felicity,” he says carefully, “I know it’s hard because he left…”

He stops himself as she raises her eyebrows. Not that she considers Diggle anything less than a close friend, at this point, but she’d still rather not get into _this_ part of her past in front of him.

“I know it’s hard to see it,” he continues, pushing past the uncertainty, “But it’s clear that he still cares about you, and they can see it, and they want to use that against him. They already have.”

His voice wavers, and she can see as the guilt starts to cloud around his eyes before he looks down.

“So,” Diggle interjects, “Defense. I know you guys are going to say you’re getting enough in your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes at school, but I want to teach you guys Ministry level stuff, the kind of training Lyla’s department puts their agents through.”

Oliver’s back straightens, and suddenly there’s a glint in his eye and Felicity finds herself, oddly, fighting a smile. She can see as the unspoken challenge in front of them – clearly, this training is no walk around Hogsmeade – excites Oliver.

“When can we start?” he says, trying to mask his eager tone with a more serious one.

Diggle sees right through it, and he smiles.

“How’s right now?”

* * *

They end up shuttering the windows and pushing all the tables to the side in the main area of The Foundry. Oliver is practically giddy as he sheds his sweater and actually starts _play wrestling_ with Diggle before they start training.

Her boyfriend is a child.

The fun and games, as it turns out, only lasts for about fifteen minutes, until Diggle is teaching Felicity about defending against an advanced stunning charm and is knocked right onto her back.

“Watch it, John!” Oliver shouts, running over from his spot on the wall to crouch next to her.

She groans. She didn’t really take that bad of a fall, in fact her ego might be more bruised than any physical part of her, but that doesn’t stop Oliver from immediately wrapping an arm around her.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly. She nods and quietly assures him she’s fine, trying gently to swat his hand away as he gets closer to fussing-territory.

As she gets up – on her own, thank you Oliver, that’ll be fine – and dusts off her hands on her thighs.

“I’m sorry, Felicity,” Diggle offers when she raises her wand and gets in position again.

She shakes her head.

“Don’t listen to him, I need to learn.”

Diggle raises his wand once more, and before he can say anything Oliver – who has resumed his leaning-on-the-wall arms-crossed thing – calls out, “Remember to take it easy,” Felicity rolls her eyes, “She’s not of age yet, we can’t have her getting hurt.”

Diggle offers a half smile.

“He’s not completely wrong. And he cares about you, it’s sweet.”

“Sweet won’t help me fighting a Death Eater that wants me dead,” Felicity retorts, “So let’s try that again.”

She plants her feet, as instructed, and closes her eyes briefly when Oliver reminds her to keep her wrist straight when holding her wand.

“This time, I’m going to use a nonverbal spell,” he warns, “Your enemies won’t give you time to brace yourself, so I want you to learn to react quickly.”

“Got it,” Felicity nods and squares her shoulders, “Hit me. Or don’t – I mean, don’t tell me, just, do what you gotta –”

She’s immediately cut off by being knocked off her feet again. This time she lands hard on her ass, and rubs it absently.

Once more, Oliver is jumping off the wall and yelling, “John!”

This is going to be a long night.

* * *

They return to the castle closer to midnight. It’s well, well past the acceptable time to be out but they’re hoping Dinah was able to cover for them.

Felicity feels tired as they walk back, but satisfied. She feels sore from the surprising amount of exercise that came from Diggle’s lessons, but the training was empowering. After her confrontation with Tommy, and feeling completely caught of guard and unable to react quick enough to defend herself, the training is exactly what she needed.

Oliver and she don’t say too much on the way back, both equally tired from their packed day. Instead, they hold hands and walk into the castle, skin buzzing with anticipation with what is to come.

* * *

Monday morning cannot come quick enough. Oliver and Felicity head into the Great Hall as early as they can, eagerly waiting for the daily delivery of newspapers to drop in.

When it does, Felicity has to remind Oliver multiple times that Tommy is in the room as well, and he cannot look like he’s anticipating whatever news lies in _The Daily Prophet_.

The front page that greets them is unlike anything they could have prepared for.

The headline, in all its bold letters, declares that Malcolm Merlyn has been appointed the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, after the previous department head’s abrupt retirement.

In the article that follows, Oliver and Felicity read on to discover that Malcolm was _inspired to take action after the tragic death of his close friend Robert Queen._ The words make Oliver grip the newspaper so tight the text crumples under his touch. Merlyn stated that he wanted to _do his part to assist the wizard community’s greater safety_.

Slowly, the paper sinks in Oliver’s hand.

“This is it,” he whispers, “This is what they had been waiting for. They needed someone in the Ministry, they need the power and the safety.”

“This is bad,” Felicity knows she doesn’t need to say it, but she still feels better saying it, “This is really bad.”

“This means that Diggle’s plan, to get evidence and take it to the Ministry,” Oliver looks up at her, the worry lines creasing his forehead and making him look miles older, “We can’t do that anymore. We’re on our own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six left! 
> 
> Thank you for reading  
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	20. Crime and Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Malcolm continues to make his way through the Ministry, Oliver and Felicity meet the special someone in John Diggle's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to call this a filler, especially as we’re so late in the game, but it sure feels like it. I kinda struggled with this because I got halfway through, had three weeks of writer’s block (in which I started working on a new multichapter... coming soon), and then started it from scratch.
> 
> I hope you like it anyway! Also - Lyla!

Oliver and Felicity wait at one of the tables of The Foundry, the sound of Diggle faintly shifting around his office behind them.

Oliver is a little more suspicious today, considering their friend called them over as usual, but cryptically informed them someone else would be joining them.

He tries not to think about it, and instead focuses on the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ he and Felicity have been sharing.

Malcolm Merlyn’s new role in the Ministry of Magic puts him in the papers just about every day.

He works closely with the Minister, and wastes absolutely no time proposing legislation in regards to crime reform, particularly amending certain laws that were put in place in the immediate aftermath of the Second War. He organizes enquiries on the current state of the Wizengamot and the processes of the courts system. He does interviews criticizing the justice system and makes bold claims that he is going to fix areas of the Ministry that have grown weak over the years.

He makes it no secret that he wants to make a big splash in his new role as a politician.

In today’s _Daily Prophet_ , Oliver reads in disgust as an article praises Malcolm for being such a proactive department head, and speculates if this leadership will make him a good Minister.

Felicity is a little ahead of him, already pulling out the third page so she can continue the article and scoffs.

“He’s going to be meeting with the Hogwarts’ Board of Governors to ‘discuss education reform,’” she says in a mocking cheerful tone.

Oliver’s eyebrows furrow.

“Education? That really isn’t his division.”

Felicity shrugs.

"I doubt that’ll stop him in this path. The Minister loves him, he’s gotten a fairly good response, somehow, despite being completely inexperienced,” she sighs, “Whatever he has in store, we can safely assume now he wants to meddle in Hogwarts.”

Oliver doesn’t respond, and both of them silently mull over what more Merlyn – and, by extension, Darhk – could possibly do.

He takes a moment to look at Felicity again, who turns to the business section and rubs her eyes.

“You look tired,” he observes.

“Yeah,” she says, “Early morning meeting with Professor Morrison today,” she rolls her eyes, “I had to convince him my paper was actually way more than he graded me for.”

Oliver smiles, knowing that she ranted about her first less-than-ideal grade the entire week.

“How did that go?” he takes a sip of the coffee Diggle left on the table.

“Good,” she replies smugly, “I got him to bump me up and my average will remain intact. I think he knows that if he didn’t listen I would have raised hell and he didn’t look like he wanted to fight at 8 am on a Saturday morning.”

Oliver laughs.

“Either way, I’m proud of you.”

Felicity matches his smile and leans in, lips brushing against his quickly before the sound of the door opening behind them and Diggle’s booming voice pulls them apart.

“No PDA in my restaurant, kids,” he says lightly, and the abrupt sound makes Oliver pull back sharply with a sigh.

It seems as though most of their free time lately has been spent either doing school work or sneaking off to The Foundry to engage in Diggle’s training, which is honestly starting to feel like Diggle’s version of hell. Oliver thinks he’s getting more of a workout than he ever did during Quidditch season this year.

Luckily, Oliver and Felicity are both starting to improve, and he can see by the way her smile lights up during training that Felicity loves it.

Still, Oliver turns to his friend with a little bit of a glare, only for it to melt away when he sees a familiar woman with short brown hair trailing behind him.

“Lyla!” he gets up, and Felicity hesitantly follows behind him, “Long time no see. Congratulations on the engagement – I really don’t know what you were thinking.”

Lyla laughs.

“Oliver, good to see you again,” her eyes trail over to his left, “And you must be Felicity, I’ve heard so much about you.” she says with a grin.

Next to him, Felicity smiles almost shyly.

“Good things, I hope,” she says.

Diggle raises his hands.

“The best,” he assures her, “I had to tell someone about the girl who’s got Oliver Queen wrapped around her finger.”

“In any case, I am happy to meet you,” Lyla says, “I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

Diggle holds out a hand, gesturing for Oliver and Felicity to sit.

“I’m here to talk about Merlyn,” Lyla says.

“Has everything he’s been doing affected your work?” Oliver asks.

Lyla purses her lips.

“Not quite. The department I work under is highly specialized and flies below the radar most of the time, but I can’t imagine it’ll be long before Merlyn decides to come sniffing around.”

She places a hand on a file resting on the table.

“What I do know is that he’s looking into a lot of active cases in his department. They’ve all but buried Robert Queen’s investigation ever since he took over.”

She looks to Oliver.

“I’m sorry.”

Oliver doesn’t say anything at first. Hesitantly, Felicity reaches over and takes his hand.

“It’s okay,” he assures the group, who is suddenly watching him closely.

And it is. He’s been resigned to the fact for a couple of weeks now, that getting justice for his father’s murder would have to fall outside the realm of wizard law. That they – this quiet group of four – would have to find it themselves.

Lyla clears her throat.

“With that said, I know you guys have been looking into things on your own here, and I can’t say I approve of Johnny helping two school aged kids get in more danger –”

She throws a pointed look her fiancé’s way, and the look Diggle gives back tells Oliver that it’s probably not the first time he’s heard that.

“ – I am sorry to say that none of that can be taken to the Ministry, not while Merlyn’s there. It won’t stand a chance. Even if I took it to my bosses, something this major would definitely slip.”   

“It’s completely understandable,” Felicity says, “Thank you for telling what you could.”

Lyla nods once.

“There’s another reason I’m here. I know I don’t approve of it, but I heard Johnny’s been training you guys. I wanted to guys to practice something I know they aren’t teaching you in schools anymore.”

Behind her, Diggle is moving tables aside and pulling the blinds of the windows in a way that has become routine for their little training sessions.

“Now, I take it you guys know about Patronuses?” she says.

Beside him, Felicity straightens up.

“Of course,” she replies, “But they don’t teach them anymore cause the Dementors are… well, they’re gone? Extinct?”

Lyla gives a little grin.

“The official story is that after the second war the Dementors were disbanded from protecting Azkaban, and they went extinct. But, no one truly knows where they went. I’ve been tracking a few cases in the South and it sounds like they’ve been alive all this time.”

Felicity raises her eyebrows. Oliver can see as the wheels in her head start spinning as she processes this information.

“You think Darhk is mobilizing these Dementors for whatever it is he has planned?”

Lyla nods.

“I do. But the Ministry’s official position on the matter is that they stopped being a government concern once they were disbanded from work.”

“Seems a little short sighted,” Oliver comments, and Lyla nods in agreement.

“That’s why I decided I’d come over and teach you,” she pulled her wand out from her side, “It’s not in Hogwarts curriculum anymore, so Johnny wouldn’t know, but it was part of my training for work.”

Lyla pushes away from the table and rolls up her sleeves. As Oliver and Felicity look at her expectantly, her blue eyes wide.

“Well, what are you two waiting for?”

“Wait,” Felicity holds a hand out, “Now?”

“Yes, now,” Lyla says, and Oliver is suddenly very glad she never decided to be a teacher at Hogwarts.

Felicity gets up before him, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater and pulling out her wand.

Though normally Oliver is adequately enthusiastic about whatever training exercises they had, he is a little slower to get up this time.

“Now remember, this is highly advanced magic,” Lyla advises, “Most wizards aren’t able to produce a Patronus successfully, so don’t be discouraged if it doesn’t come right away.”

Felicity only straightens her neck, and something tells Oliver that she won’t be taking failure as an answer on this.

The four of them spread out on the open floor, Oliver sheds his hoodie quickly and drops it on the ground, stretching in his thin black t-shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Felicity glancing at him as she tries to find some concentration, and he tries to fight the smirk he feels growing.

“Okay, so what you want to do is focus on the happiest memory you can, the happier the better, and you’ll start to draw circles with your wand before saying, _Expecto Patronum_!”

Felicity immediately takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly as she recalls a memory.

Oliver forces himself to stop observing her, and instead feeds off the confidence she’s radiating. His own eyes slide shut for a moment, as he tries to picture a dark hospital room months ago, lying in a bed and watching Felicity lean over him and whisper that the New Year had passed with a smile on her face.

The memory stirs something inside his chest, and he suspects it’s the feeling he’s supposed to be chasing to conjure a Patronus, so he immediately begins drawing circles and repeats “Expecto Patronum.”

He repeats it again and again, but after a minute of wand waving, and the memory of New Years slowly fading from his concentration, he drops his aching arm.

Next to him, Felicity does the same, and when her wand arm drops her shoulders look a little slumped.

“Don’t feel discouraged,” Lyla says, “No one gets it on the first try. You might not even get it today, but it’s important that you keep trying. And if you need a break, at any point, you can take one.”

Felicity straightens up and raises her wand. Oliver doubts she’ll be taking a break any time soon.

He tries to focus more on harnessing the happy memory. New Years. Felicity. Felicity smiling at him. The way her blonde hair brushed against him when she leaned down. The glow of her skin in the candlelight.

The memory starts to shift against his will, and it soon just becomes her.

Laughing as he tried to distract Felicity in the library and then getting glares from the librarian. The first time he saw her, hanging out by the door of his train compartment. The way he felt when she fell asleep on his shoulder. The way she felt on top of him, her body pressed against his –

“Expecto Patronum,” he says, a little more confidence in his tone this time. He really feels like he’s got it, but is disappointed when his wand weakly shoots out faint white wisps.

Felicity looks like she’s having the same luck, her results more in the form of a silvery white cloud that floats near the ground.

He wonders, if they ever get this right, what animals their Patronuses would eventually take.

They practice for the better part of the afternoon, only stopping when Felicity looks exhausted and Diggle suggests they break for lunch.

“I actually have to get going,” Lyla says, holding out her hand and waiting as a light coat flies from Diggle’s office and into her outstretched arm, “You guys should keep practicing, it may not seem like it but you’ve made a lot of progress for your first day.”

She leans up to quickly give Diggle a kiss.

“I’ll let you guys know if anything changes in the Ministry, but it might have to go through Johnny.”

Then, she surprises Oliver by quickly throwing her arms around Felicity and then patting Oliver’s arms affectionately

“Take care of yourselves, okay?”

Neither of them can get a word in before she apparates, and her spot is emptied with a faint pop sound.

The group stares at the spot Lyla once vacated in silence.

Felicity is the first to speak.

“Lyla is awesome,” she declares, her tired face splitting open into a wide grin, “I approve, John.”

Diggle snorts.

“Glad to hear it.”

“I’m serious,” Felicity says, “She’s great, I see why you’re so moon-eyed over her. I can’t wait to see you two crazy kids get married. Wait –”

She furrows her eyebrows, and her pink painted lips turn into a frown that toes into pout territory.

“I am invited to your wedding, right? I mean,” she waves a hand in the air, “We can’t investigate Death Eaters together on a weekly basis and then not be invited to your wedding, John Diggle!”

Diggle laughs.

“Of course you are, I can’t get married without you there, Felicity Smoak,” Felicity starts grinning again, “You’ll be there with Oliver, my groomsman is going to need a date.”

Oliver freezes.

“What? Groomsman?”

He can honestly say he didn’t see this coming. He hadn’t thought much about Diggle’s wedding – other than that it was happening, at some point – and he never thought he’d be so important to Diggle that he’d be in his party.

“Did I not mention?” Diggle says innocently, “Can’t fight Death Eaters together and not have you up there on my big day, man.”

Oliver’s throat feels tight with an unidentifiable emotion.

“Right.”

Diggle smiles knowingly, as though he can sense the feeling of _something_ that Oliver’s going through.

“You two should probably be heading back,” he looks out the window, “It should be getting dark soon.”

Felicity gives Diggle a hug before they head out, something that has become customary between them over the weeks, and for once Oliver finds himself throwing an arm around his friend and clapping his back.

“Getting soft on me Queen?” Diggle jokes as they pull apart. Oliver just shakes his head, a bashful grin uncontrollable on his lips.

He never consciously thought about it, but ever since finding out his oldest friend Tommy has betrayed him in so many different ways, the hole for his best friend has never felt vacant, because Diggle has been there all along.

Maybe he’ll complain less about the training now.

Oliver’s hand lands on Felicity’s back easily as they head up the familiar path to Hogwarts.

As they near the castle, Felicity looks to the sky, which is a clear blue that is gradually going to darken.

“It’s such a nice day today,” she comments, “I almost don’t want to go back inside right away.”

“Let’s not, then,” Oliver tugs on her hand gently, pulling her towards a patch of grass near the Black Lake.

As they sit, Oliver finds himself suddenly overwhelmed, thinking of what their day was spent in.

There’s still so much that lies ahead, so much they don’t know, like whatever the Undertaking is, and he can’t shake this constant feeling like something sinister is lurking around the corner, ready to jump out at them.

“Hey,” Felicity says gently, bringing him out of his thoughts, “I can feel you overthinking, what’s going on?”

“Sorry,” he shakes his head a little, as though physically forcing his thoughts away, “I was just thinking about everything… and how much could possibly go wrong.”

Felicity curls her hand into his and leans in close.

“I know, but whatever comes we’ll be able to handle it. Ask me how I know.”

The corner of his lips twitch up.

“How do you know?”

“Cause you, me, and Dig are freaking awesome,” she says, and his smile turns into a full blown laugh.

“Can’t argue with you there,” he says, leaning in to press a quick kiss in her hair. She leans into his touches, a habit that has not gone unnoticed by Oliver.

“But seriously,” she eventually shifts to meet his eyes, “I know it’s basically impossible to know with any certainty what’s going on, and we’re dealing with this with no help from any legitimate sources, and your own best friend is working with the evil – wow, I know why you’re stressing.”

She pauses to frown, but then shakes her head.

“Anyway, I know we can do this, because I believe in us. It’s that easy.”

Oliver nods, the words caught between his throat.

“Let’s focus on happier things right now,” she declares, dropping her hands to her lap forcefully, “Like John’s wedding!”

Oliver finds himself smiling again.

“Yeah, that’ll be something. John and Lyla aren’t really the most traditional people, I’m excited to see what they do.”

“I hope he didn’t feel pressured to invite me,” she frowns, “I just, I thought we’re friends, but if he wants to keep it small or –”

“Felicity,” Oliver cuts her off before she can get lost in her thoughts, “He wants you there. Trust me.”

“Do you know when it’ll be?”

“I think sometime late in the summer,” Oliver rubs his chin thoughtfully, “Hopefully this whole mess will be over by then.”

“Hopefully. A summer wedding, that will be so nice,” she says wistfully, “I wonder if they’ll do it outdoors. It’s a little risky, ‘cause, you know, weather, but outdoor weddings are so lovely.”

Oliver finds himself watching her as she stares into the lake, running her hands through the grass mindlessly as she speaks. There’s a gentle breeze that blow at the ends of her ponytail and the setting sun makes her skin glow.

As she speaks, an imagine enters his mind faster than he can control. Them, in the future, an outdoor wedding with Diggle by his side. Felicity smiling brightly and looking _so_ breathtaking as the sun shines down on them. Maybe somewhere near water, not unlike where they are right now.

But he stops the train of thought, because he’s getting far too ahead of himself. Because, they’re too young.

But he knows that image is something he won’t be able to get out his mind any time soon.

He knows now that a happy ending with Felicity is all he wants.

Suddenly, the Death Eaters don’t seem so scary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five left! FIVE. I'm freaking out. We got through TWENTY chapters. Sorry, I needed to get that out. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	21. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Oliver and Felicity must take some time for the other important relationships in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: I wasn’t a fan of this one - it's dialogue heavy, it's infodumpy, but it was kind of necessary to advance. Also, I have exams coming up so I wanted to have /something/ up in case I get super busy.

The sound of Oliver’s hand thumping his book makes Felicity jump.

“Alright, I think that’s good for now,” he declares, “But it’s time for a break.”

Felicity would like the record to show that he had been studying for maybe – _maybe_ – fifteen minutes before this dramatic declaration of his.

And don’t even get her started on the fifteen minutes it took her to convince him they can’t keep using the back table of the library for making out. His arguments were really convincing.

Right now, her patience is on its last leg. She’s just as overworked as him, between balancing Diggle’s training and meetings with school work.

Not to mention, this week sleep and Felicity have had a difficult relationship, and it’s made her a little more cranky than usual. She doesn’t want to take it out on her boyfriend, but he’s being exceptionally stubborn about studying today.

“Oliver,” she says exasperatedly, “Come on, try to at least finish this chapter.”

He tilts his head and tries to give her _the eyes,_ but she just rolls her own and turns back to her notes.

“Don’t give me that look,” she says, by now immune to his charms (well, mostly immune), “We need to study. We’re getting closer to the end of the semester and we’ve barely concentrated because of how often we’ve been going to Diggle’s.”

Oliver folds his arms.

“I can argue that what we’re doing there is kind of important,” he grumbles.

“So is school, Oliver,” she says. “You should be more worried about this, you’re _graduating_ soon.”

“Right,” he shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and she wonders if she’s struck a nerve by bringing it up.

“I mean, haven’t you thought about it? What you’re going to do after school, I mean.” She winces as her voice comes out small. Immediately, she berates herself as his discomfort at thinking about graduation is obvious.

He shrugs, looking at the table.

“Not much. I mean, my grades aren’t really the best,” he says, and she almost laughs because she’s seen some of his grades and she knows he’s just being modest, “I never really was sure what I wanted to do after school. I think my parents always assumed I would work in the family business, they never asked me about it. But after this year…”

He stops, looking at her with an unreadable expression.

“After this year?” she pushes.

“With what we’ve been doing… I don’t know, it’s inspired me. I guess I think whatever I do now would be ideal. Helping people, seeking justice… But I don’t trust the Ministry anymore, so I don’t know how I could do that.”

He frowns.

“Well, what about Lyla’s department?” Felicity suggests, “It’s a little mysterious, but it sounds like she does good work out there.”

Oliver nods thoughtfully.

“Maybe I should ask about it next time we see her. Although, Lyla seems like a tough boss, doesn’t she?”

Felicity snorts.

“What about you?”

The question catches Felicity off guard, and this time she’s the one shifting uncomfortably.

On her end, though, it’s less about her future. His question forces an implication into her head, one she’s not sure that he intended. It makes her think of _them_ by the time she’s graduating next year, and she’s tried very hard not to hope that whatever this is will be able to survive a year where she’s still in school, and he’s working somewhere far away.

She forces those thoughts away from her head for now, and instead focuses on his question.

“I’m like you, I think,” she says carefully, “I want to make the world better, especially after everything we’ve seen this year. I want to make sure nothing like this can ever happen again.”

“That sounds…” he pauses, and Felicity tenses at what he might say – idealistic? Naïve? Far fetched? “… Perfect.”

Before she can stop it, she starts to imagine a world where they both work together, meeting for lunch and sharing secret smiles as they cross in the hallway. Making a difference, together, ending each day with a sense of accomplishment in their hearts.

A grin fights its way to her face, and he matches it, their books long forgotten.

Maybe the future outside Hogwarts doesn’t have to be so uncertain.

* * *

Felicity finds Dinah exactly where she’d expect, in a quiet corner of the mostly empty Great Hall, a mug of coffee to the side as she works.

As she approaches, she twists a small glass vial in her hands uncertainly.

She asked for this from Diggle a few weeks ago, when Oliver was distracted over discussing fighting technique with Lyla.

Diggle was understanding. He nodded in that wise, knowing Diggle way and told her not to worry about it.

She wishes maybe she had a little bit more encouragement from him, because facing the prospect of actually slipping the potion in her friend’s drink makes her stomach twist with guilt.

The decision to go through with this idea was not one that was taken lightly. Felicity had lost more than a few nights of sleep worrying about Dinah and her sudden relationship with Tommy. It ate at her for a long time – she didn’t know what Tommy knew, how much he was using her friend, or worse yet, if Dinah was just like Tommy.

She talked to Oliver about it the day Diggle gave her the truth-revealing potion, asking him if it would be okay to tell Dinah what Tommy was really like.

They mulled over the consequences as they walked back from Hogsmeade and decided that Dinah’s safety was at too much of a risk with Tommy and it would be better for her to be in the know. It was possible that he was using her for information, but it was also possible that he had turned her to his side.

Felicity isn’t sure how she would handle the last outcome.

But she has to know for sure. That’s why she’s gripping a vial of Veritaserum tightly in her fist, fighting the guilty voice in her head that tells her this is unethical.

Still, she greets her friend with an adequate amount of cheer in her voice and sits down on the empty seat next to her.

“Studying?” Felicity asks with a smile, observing the spread of books and notes on the desk. Her mug still sits full of coffee and on the side Felicity sits on.

“Yeah,” Dinah sighs, “It feels like the work is never ending, but I’m trying to get through it as much as I can before…”

She trails off with a frown, and it sets an alarm off in Felicity’s mind.

“Before?” she pushes.

Dinah pushes her thick hair away from her face and waves her hand absently.

“I have to see Tommy,” she says, a forced casualness colouring her tone.

Felicity internally fist-pumps at Dinah bringing up Tommy before she needed to.

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic about it,” Felicity remarks.

Dinah’s frown deepens.

“I don’t know,” she says, “Things have been kind of weird lately. I don’t know what I did, but he’s been kind of distant. I wanted to go talk to him about it today.”

Felicity feels the guilt threatening to fight its way back from the corner, but determinately ignores it. When her friend rubs at her eyes tiredly, she knows this is the only chance she’ll get.

The vial uncorks soundlessly, and she doesn’t give herself a moment to hesitate before emptying the contents into Dinah’s drink. The clear liquid swirls into her drink quickly, and Felicity watches with a clenched jaw, knowing she has crossed a line she can never come back from.

“What happened?” she asks, pushing the mug forward with her elbow, “It sounded like things were going well. You seemed really happy.”

Dinah takes a long sip of the drink and sniffles.

“I don’t know,” her voice sounds sad, “It’s been going on for a few weeks, but I didn’t really want to say anything because I was _so happy_ with him. And I was just feeling down because I didn’t see much of you lately…”

Felicity’s heart clenches. She is officially the worst friend in the world.

Dinah’s eyes widen in confusion, as if realizing that she wouldn’t have normally admitted that last part.

“Sorry,” she says quickly, “I didn’t mean to say that, but I just meant that you’ve been pretty busy and you’re always with Oliver, and I never really see you anymore. So, when Tommy started acting weird, and I stopped seeing you, I felt lonely, and I was starting to wonder what I did wrong.”

Dinah’s eyebrows furrow again, and Felicity can tell that now she’s trying to fight her own honesty. She purses her lips.  

“Di, there’s something I need to tell you,” Felicity blurts out, “Well, a lot of somethings, actually.”

“What is it?” Dinah asks, “You’re making me nervous.”

“Okay first, is that I’m so, _so,_ sorry for not being there for you while all of this was going on. I shouldn’t have been distant. And I promise, you didn’t do anything.” A tear stings at her eye as she fights the guilt, and she blinks it away.

Now she’s the one being exceptionally honest. She never intended to be one of those people, who loses herself in a guy, whose relationship would take her away from her friends. But here she is, listening to the ways her unintentional distance hurt her best friend.

Her distance, coupled with her proximity to a Death Eater in training.

“Felicity, it’s okay,” Dinah grabs her hand, “It was just me being insecure. And when I see how happy you are with Oliver, it’s impossible for me to resent you for that.”

Felicity smiles.

“Okay, the other thing is that you’re much better off without Tommy in your life. Trust me.”

Dinah tilts her head to the side.

“Isn’t he Oliver’s best friend?”

“I… yeah,” Felicity twists her fingers together, “He was. I think he was using you… to get to me.”

Dinah pulls back a little, clearly offended by Felicity’s choice of words.

“I don’t understand,” she says flatly, and Felicity can tell that she’s starting to lose her.

“Just, please, let me explain. Do you remember that Oliver’s father was murdered last summer?”

Dinah’s eyebrows furrow at Felicity’s abrupt change in subject.

“Of course.”

“He was murdered by dark magic. Then, over the holidays, Oliver was taken by the same people who killed Robert, but nobody knew because we were told to keep it quiet. But the truth is,” Felicity takes a deep breath, _now or never,_ “The truth is there’s an uprising of a _lot of_ bad people, people who have Tommy under their influence.”

“Felicity,” Dinah says, “What aren’t you saying?”

“Death Eaters,” Felicity finally says. Dinah’s eyebrows shoot to her hairline.

“Death Eaters?” she repeats disbelievingly, and this conversation is becoming exactly as Felicity feared, “You mean like, Harry Potter, history class, cloaks and masks. _Those_ Death Eaters?”

Felicity nods.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“And Tommy is wrapped up in this?” Dinah asks.

“Do you remember the night that I fell?” Felicity asks, and Dinah nods, “I didn’t just slip down the stairs. Tommy led me to the crack and pulled his wand on me and –”

She has to stop, her voice cracking as she remembers that night. How scared and frozen and _confused_ she felt. The horror as Tommy found her in the hospital the next day.

“He told me he had to do this. His father is in it and… and so is mine.” Felicity ignores how Dinah’s mouth falls open, “He was supposed to kill me.”

* * *

 Oliver finds himself with an unusual free afternoon.

He knows Felicity is busy coming clean to Dinah, a conversation she had been nervous about all morning. He knows it isn’t easy for her to do this, especially when she revealed that she was worried Dinah would never believe her.

The silent implication of _like you_ was likely unintentional, but it still made Oliver wince in regret of his past choices.

But, with the knowledge that his girlfriend is facing her own fears in favour of keeping her friend safe and in the loop, Oliver decides to take one out of her book and turns in the direction of the Slytherin Common Room. There is a conversation he’s been putting off for weeks, if not months.

It’s been a while since he’s seen Thea. The last time they probably had a long conversation was New Years Eve, when he tried to explain the Death Eaters who took him, and she and their mother looked down at him with disbelieving expressions.

Since then, the only time he had run into her was the day he snuck into Tommy’s room, and that could barely be considered a conversation.

He has been avoiding his sister.

Still, this entire thing has grown bigger than him now, and he fears the proximity Thea and Tommy might have by being in the same House could have negative consequences.

It doesn’t take long to find her. She looks about the same, still a gangly teenager who loves eyeliner a little too much to make the older brother in him comfortable.  

“Ollie?” she says, the surprise in her voice evident, “What are you doing here?”

Oliver shrugs nonchalantly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“Can’t a guy want to check in on his little sister from time to time?”

Thea crosses her arms.

“I don’t know,” she says, “Maybe, if that brother checked in normally and not after three months.”

Oliver winces. Okay, maybe he was a little too optimistic that this conversation would be easy.

“Right, I’m sorry about that,” he says, “I’ve been a little –”

“Busy?”

“Right,” he says, leaning on the wall, hanging onto his forced casualness. “Doing school work. Seventh year and all that.”

“School work,” Thea snorts, “Is that what you call Felicity?”

“Watch it, speedy,” Oliver says steadily.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Thea drawls, “But you _are_ spending all your time with her, sneaking off to god knows where. Do you even know what people have been saying about you two?”

Oliver bites the inside of his cheek. He has an idea of what people are saying, but he doesn’t need to get into _that_ right now. Bigger problems in the world.

“Speedy –”

“Did you know you haven’t written to Mom in months?” she says, her voice harsh and accusatory, “I bet you haven’t noticed, but she has. She keeps asking me if you’re okay, she’s really worried about you.”

“I’ve just been really –”

“Busy, right,” she gives a short, bitter laugh, “You said that already.”

Oliver clenches his jaw as the conversation gets away from him. This is not at all how he planned for this to go.

“Thea,” he says, “I’m really sorry I haven’t been better at checking in on you, or writing to Mom, and I promise I’ll write to her tonight, but there is something I need to tell you.”

* * *

 There is a storm passing over Dinah’s face, as she battles between disbelief and confusion, and eventually it seems as though some parts of her connects Felicity’s story to her own experiences with Tommy.

“There were times…” Dinah says quietly, almost as though she is speaking to herself instead of Felicity, “Tommy seemed like he wasn’t…”

She shakes her head.

“I’m so sorry, Di,” Felicity says, “I didn’t mean to keep this from you for so long, and then just dump it all at once.”

“Why now?” Dinah asks, her voice quiet.

“We have reason to believe that whatever the Death Eaters are planning, it’s happening soon. And I didn’t know what Tommy was up to with you, and I wanted to get you out of that with him.”

“When you say ‘we’,” she says, “You mean you and Oliver.”

It’s not framed like a question.

“Yes. With some outside help.”

Dinah stays silent for a few moments. Her eyes are trained on the notes in front of her, but she is clearly not reading them.

“Di, please say something,” Felicity pleads quietly.

Finally, Dinah looks up. And, despite herself, she smiles.

“So, what can I do to help?”

* * *

 When more than a few curious eyes started to look in Oliver and Thea’s direction, he decided to pull her into an empty classroom to finish their conversation.

She sits on one of the desks and looks at him expectantly.

“Well?”

“Do you remember when I was taken on Christmas?” Oliver asks.

Thea nods, her angry expression softening.

“Kinda hard to forget,” she says.

Oliver nods in sympathy.

“Remember when I told you that it was Death Eaters?”

Thea hesitates, crossing her arms slowly.

“I remember you thought it was that but the Aurors, and Mom…”

“They didn’t want to believe me, I know,” Oliver says patiently. He had made his peace with that a long time ago, especially armed with the knowledge he has now, “I need you to believe me now, though.”

Thea purses her lips.

“Ollie, what’s going on?”

“I know earlier in the year I promised you I wouldn’t keep you in the dark anymore,” he says, “And lately I’ve been flaking. But the truth is, I’ve been working to figure out what’s going on, since no one would believe me before.”

Thea’s eyebrows climb.

“Working… how?”

Oliver quickly debates how to approach this, he wonders if he can start giving away how much help Diggle and Lyla have been.

“Felicity and I have been investigating,” he says carefully, “You remember my friend, Diggle? He has some sources.”

Thea is starting to look a little skeptical, so he hurries to finish.

“Look, the most important thing about all of this is the people wrapped up in it. I should have told you this weeks ago, but I need you to stay away from Tommy.”

“Tommy is involved with this? _Our_ Tommy?” Thea asks disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Oliver tries to hang onto his last shred of patience as his desperation to get through to his sister grows. “It started with his dad, and we think he got Tommy involved. He hurt Felicity.”

This time, Thea softens.

“I heard about that,” she says thoughtfully, “Her fall. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine,” Oliver says, “But that’s when we realized how dangerous he could be.”

“He hasn’t spoken to me much this year. Usually, he looks out for me, but this year I haven’t seen him much. I thought it was an age thing but…” she trails off quietly.

There’s hurt in her voice, and Oliver knows she has always considered Tommy to be her second brother. This news is just as hard for her as it was for him.

“You don’t have to worry, I’ll avoid him if anything comes up again.”

Oliver nods gratefully.

“Just, be on the lookout for anything weird, if he starts asking you questions or starts getting pushy, find me right away, okay?”

“Of course,” she says, “But, Ollie, what exactly am I supposed to be looking out for?”

Oliver’s shoulders slump, and he sighs in frustration.

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Four left. 
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	22. Dreaming On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity is paid an unexpected visit in an unexpected place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is the big one, so I've been focused (see: worried) about that. This one feels like all buildup but I promise we're almost there. Sit tight. Enjoy!

As the month of April passes by Oliver and Felicity, all seems to be quiet on the Western Front. There is no news from Diggle, Merlyn has ceased to make any more major splashes in the Ministry – or at least, any newsworthy ones, and Tommy is all but invisible in school.

Though Lyla warned them that no news is good news, the quiet weeks make Oliver and Felicity exceptionally nervous. They practice drills in the passage on days they can’t make it all the way to The Foundry, and Felicity likes to think they’re improving in their techniques. She’s starting to see shape in her Patronus, but not quite enough to make out a full animal just yet. Oliver’s having a little more trouble than her, and it frustrates him to no end.

Neither of them voices their concern, about the sudden lack of news. But it’s evident from the worried glances they sometimes exchange when another day goes by without a letter from Diggle, or when _The Daily Prophet_ only seems to be running fluff pieces.

Oliver reports quietly that Tommy doesn’t even try and catch his eye in the halls anymore, and they’ll spend a day wondering what Tommy knows before the next comes along and Oliver is forced to casually discuss Quidditch with his old friend for twenty minutes.

It’s exhausting, being pulled back to square one like this, especially when it felt like they had been making progress.

Felicity tries to push the worry out of her head as she lies down for bed one night, but it’s difficult not to focus on it.

Her last letter from Diggle sits at the bottom of her bag, she’s long since memorized the few lines.

_Hey guys,_

_No news on my end. Things have gone silent. Still looking to find out what the UT is. Will contact if anything comes up._

Of course, the mysterious undertaking is the one missing piece of their puzzle. They know who the main figures were – Malcolm Merlyn, Damien Darhk, along with a few other names. They know what they want – control – but they still aren’t sure what the big plan is. How exactly they could take control, further than Malcolm’s role in government.

Oliver has a working theory that they’re going to storm the Ministry one day. Felicity thinks it’s a bit theatrical.

She folds her glasses and places them on her nightstand, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

Perhaps it was the stress of everything from the past four months coming to surface, but she had not been sleeping well at all lately. Her sleep was fitful, coming in two hour shifts and interrupted by confusing dreams she would never remember by the next morning. All that would remain is the memory of standing outside Hogwarts, watching the lake.

Still, she flops back on her bed tiredly, hoping that just tonight she can get a solid five hours or so.

The exhaustion pulls at her easily, and it doesn’t take five minutes before she drifts off.

The dream starts as it always does.

She is standing by the lake, watching as it shimmers in the sun. There’s a warm breeze that makes her hair fly and tangle around her face.

She loves standing by the lake, so it’s not surprising that this is the setting for most of her dreams lately. It’s dusky, the sky changing colour as the sun lowers on the horizon.

She feels calm watching the steady water, as though everything has melted away. Here, she doesn’t worry about Death Eaters, or Tommy, or any threats or danger or failing to keep herself safe. Here, she can just relax.

A shadow falls over her shoulder and she looks up, expecting Oliver, but the person waiting for her makes her eyes widen.

It’s been months, but the image has been imprinted in her head. From the photograph her mother sent, from the one Diggle showed them months ago, from a dream of months before, he still looks the same. Tall frame, gray hair, warm eyes turned in sympathy.

Felicity knows this isn’t just a dream anymore.

“Dad?” she says.

Immediately, she regrets using that title. It slips out before she can control it, even though the man has done nothing in her life to earn the word. Even less since she found out what he’s been involved with.

She takes a step back, but her feet sink into the grass, tightening around her ankles and keeping her in place.

“Felicity,” he breathes out, and she tries to take another step, before sinking more. He sounds relieved to see her, but no, _no_ , he doesn’t deserve that.

“I’ve been trying to get to you for months,” he says. His voice is slow, calm, and she hates it, “Felicity, your mind is so amazing. You have such strength, you’ve been able to fight me off without realizing it.”

He’s looking at her in awe – no, with _pride_.

She clenches her jaw.

 _I don’t need your compliments_ , she wants to cry, but somehow her throat is caught, and she can’t speak. She furrows her eyebrows, and he smiles knowingly.

“I know the last thing you want is to hear from me,” he says, “But I’ve been trying to warn you. Felicity, sweetheart, your life is in danger.”

_Yeah pal, I know._

“You _need_ to leave. Get out of Hogwarts, within the week. It won’t be safe for you by then,” he says, his caring gaze turning intense as he implores her, “Leave your friends, leave your boyfriend, leave everyone and everything behind and just worry about yourself.”

Felicity’s heart beats so loud she wonders if the pace will force her out of this dream.

“I will find you,” he promises, “And I will keep you safe. I know you and your friends have been poking your heads around where you shouldn’t be, but you can’t do that anymore. They’re coming for Hogwarts, on the anniversary.”

Her mouth falls open, and again the words fail her. She wonders if, along with controlling her subconscious, her father can prevent her from speaking.

“They already hurt you once,” he says, eyes skating over the long since healed wounds on her head, “I can’t let it happen again. Please.”

She wants to shout. She wants to ask him what he means, what danger she’s in, how he can expect that she’ll trust herself in her care. Instead, he just smiles knowingly at her once more and she can feel herself being pulled out of the dream.

She awakens with a start. Her sheets have been kicked off her legs, and the sweat that formed on her chest and under her arms makes her shiver. She pulls her hair away from where it sticks to her neck.

She looks out the window, squinting. It’s barely dawn, but she won’t be able to sleep now given what has just happened.

Felicity might not be able to sleep ever again, but that’s a different story.

She jumps out of bed, swiping her glasses off the table and running to the washroom.

With an early start to the day, she’s dressed and waiting anxiously outside the Gryffindor Common Room before most students are rolling out of bed.

She feels the nerves coursing through her in waves, and she alternates between leaning on the wall and bouncing on the balls of her feet, biding her time until any student decides to walk by and let her in.

Finally, she manages to calm her racing heart down enough to feel comfortable sitting down. She leans back against the stone wall, heavy eyelids slipping shut before she would feverishly blink awake.

She’s not sure how much time passes until she feels pressure on her shoulder.

“Felicity? Felicity?”

She blinks awake, squinting up at Oliver’s form. He’s crouched over her, eyes drawn up in confusion.

“What’s going on?” he asks, “Are you okay?”

“Did I fall asleep?” she counters, rubbing at her eyes. She thinks he fights a smile.

“Looks like,” he says, stretching out a hand to help her stand up. “Were you here all night?”

She shakes her head.

“No, just a little while. I needed to talk to you about something.”

Immediately, his amused grin turns south.

“Is everything okay?”

She nods and tangles their fingers together.

“Let’s go somewhere more private to talk about it,” she suggests, tugging on his hand and leading him to their passage.

* * *

By the time she is finished recounting her dream, Oliver looks stunned.

“I know,” she says.

“So, all those times…” he trails off.

She shrugs.

“Well, he did try back in October, and then it stopped. I guess he decided to try again last night.”

Oliver shakes his head.

“Felicity, you’ve had trouble sleeping all year, haven’t you noticed?” he says.

She furrows her eyebrows.

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t want to say anything before,” he admits, “But I would get worried, some weeks you seemed like you were running on fumes.”

She waves a hand in the air, “Yeah, that was just when school was getting really busy, and I was up late working.”

Oliver doesn’t look like he buys that.

“I don’t think so,” he says, “I think maybe your mind was…”

She narrows her eyes when he smiles.

“What, you honestly believe I was fighting off my Legilimens father from invading my dreams when he was trying to warn me of my mortal peril all year long?”

He huffs.

“Don’t say it like that, it’s not completely ridiculous,” he insists.

“Don’t you remember what Diggle said? He was supposed to be one of the most powerful Legilimens. How could I just fight him off without trying?”

Oliver doesn’t say anything, but that knowing smile returns to his eye.

She scoffs.

“You’re not going to like my answer,” he says, throwing his hands in the air defensively, “But it’s still what I think. You’re not giving yourself enough credit here.”

She gives him a hard look, before rolling her eyes.

“Look, there are bigger things to worry about here, we can fight about that later,” she says, and he nods, smile melting off his face, “He said Hogwarts won’t be safe soon.”

Oliver purses his lips.

“This has to be whatever the undertaking was, right?” he asks, “This big plan of theirs involves Hogwarts.”

“The anniversary,” she taps her foot impatiently, “I don’t know –”

Her head snaps up.

“What’s the date today?” she asks quickly.

“April 25,” Oliver responds.

She rubs a hand across her forehead tiredly, “I can’t believe we missed it.”

“What? What did we miss?”

She pulls the most recent _Daily Prophet_ out of her bag, flipping through the pages until she finds the community events.

“Remembrance Day. The 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts,” she says, “It’s next week.”

She shakes her head in disbelief.

“Of course, it’s perfect. There’s going to be all the press and people there for the ceremony. It’s the perfect place to cause a lot of destruction.”

Oliver nods.

“And, it’s the perfect place for the Death Eaters to come full circle,” he says darkly, “On the day and in the same place they failed before, exactly twenty years ago.”

“Right, now we know _when_ , but we still don’t know what,” Felicity says, “We need to warn Diggle. Should we go to the Foundry?”

“Felicity, it’s the middle of the week,” Oliver says, “Class is going to be starting in an hour.”

She pauses. Her eyes flicker between the entrance to the passage, and the dark path towards Hogsmeade.

“We need to tell him, now.”

Oliver raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“What?” she asks defensively.

“Nothing,” he says, “I just never thought I’d see you willingly cut class this late in the year.”

She shrugs.

“We might not have classes to go to this time next week.”

Oliver nods in understanding. it’s a sobering thought, that after months of planning and investigating, everything they’ve been working towards will culminate in seven days.

She furrows her eyebrows.

“There’s still so much that doesn’t make sense, though. Tommy can’t be strong enough to smuggle a bunch of Death Eaters into the castle, especially with all the people in for the ceremony, like the –”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh my god,” she says, “Ministry officials are always in attendance for the Remembrance Day. Malcolm Merlyn will be there.”

“It makes sense,” Oliver says, “He’ll be there to make sure whatever they have planned goes through.”

“Oliver,” her fingers twist in each other, “Are we going to be able to handle this?”

“What, you, me, Diggle, and Lyla?” he asks, as she nods, eyebrows furrowed, Oliver gives her a smile, “Why not?”

Felicity gives him a look. She admires his confidence, and she can see that most of it is false bravado, because right now they can’t afford to be uncertain.

She holds out her hand.

“Come on,” she says, “Diggle’s going to need to hear about this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 3 left, and they’re the three I’ve been looking forward to all along. 
> 
> Also, this Wednesday really is the 20th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts (love when my timelines workout), so happy day to you all in advance. I’ll be thinking of my mans Fred Weasley fondly and ignoring JKR’s annual apology. 
> 
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	23. The Second Battle of Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. I did not have 6 or so books to build this battle up, but I hope it sticks just the same. I’ve been excited/nervous about this one for a long time, and have been slowly working on it for months. It's also a long chapter by my standards, and I'm (warily) proud of it.
> 
> If you’re a big HP geek, some familiar characters make cameos, and some references are made that I hope you appreciate. I let myself have one self indulgent moment where I let my personal beef with HP canon slip through. See if you can catch it.
> 
> Enjoy!

Remembrance Day comes far sooner than Oliver and Felicity anticipated.

The week since Felicity’s father sent her the warning went by way too quickly. They barely had time to coordinate a plan enough to make anyone comfortable.

To make matters even more uncertain, Felicity’s father’s warning seemed to be a one time deal. Her sleeping patterns have since returned to normal and there have been no signs of strange dreams.

Oliver argued he may have been trying to contact Felicity and she fought him off without realizing it.

She argued that he simply didn’t try and reach out.

Be that as it may, the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts arrives with an air of uncertainty that keeps Felicity anxious as she gets ready in the morning.

The day will have its morning ceremony as it always does, with certain speakers coming in as they commemorate the events of May 2, the lost lives, and Voldemort’s downfall.

Given the milestone anniversary this year, there’s said to be an additional part of the ceremony that Waller is not disclosing, and the uncertainty makes them nervous. More nervous, if at all possible.

Briefly, the nature of Waller’s alliances is questioned, before they realize that the women who still bore the scars Death Eaters gave her would never join their side. It’s still a risk, trusting her, but a calculated one.

In the end, the extent of their planning is: Oliver and Felicity watching the ceremony for any signs of trouble, Diggle waiting outside the school grounds for a message, Lyla and a few members of ARGUS she was able to recruit doing security at the school as backup.

All in all, it’s six people, give or take, against an unknown quantity of Death Eaters.

Should be a walk in the park.

Felicity finds Oliver waiting by the entrance of the Great Hall. He missed breakfast in favour of sneaking Thea out of the castle through the passage and dropping her off at The Foundry.

He said he wouldn’t risk her being in the middle of anything, and Felicity didn’t fight him on it. Thea is too young to be caught in the crossfire, and they didn’t want to be distracted by making sure she was okay during whatever happened today.

“Is Thea okay?” she asks vaguely, mindful of the crowds of students walking by and entering the hall.

The official story is that Thea is sick in bed, and if anyone were to check her room the curtains of her bed would be drawn and the sound of a sleeping person would be emitted. It’s a little charm Felicity worked on that she’s actually quite proud of.

Oliver nods simply in response, his hand falling on Felicity’s lower back as he leads her into the Great Hall.

The four house tables are gone today, replaced with rows upon rows of chairs to accommodate the students and guests for the day. By the front, the teacher’s table is replaced with a stage, where Waller stands. Chairs on the stage are set up to accommodate the war heroes, but many have not arrived yet. Professor Longbottom sits on one of them, looking as uncomfortable as he does every year at all the ceremony.

As people enter, dressed in a unifying black instead of their usual House colours, voices are hushed and somber. All the conversations falter for a second, as they do every year, when a familiar man with black hair and rounded glasses enters and finds his seat next to Longbottom.

It’s always interesting to see the effect Harry Potter still has on the Wizarding community.

Felicity squints towards the front of the room. The first few rows of chairs are always held off for special heroes that will be recognized, their families, and certain ministry officials. It’s where she finds the Minister of Magic sitting, with Malcolm Merlyn by his side.

She observes Malcolm Merlyn carefully. Like others, he is wearing a solemn expression to fit the occasion. He does not look nervous, or look around in anticipation. He sits calmly, staring ahead and waiting for the ceremony to begin.

She doesn’t know if his aloof air makes her more nervous.

Tommy finds him, and they briefly shake hands in a way that is more reminiscent of two business men than it is of father and son. The interaction seems impersonal, but almost dismissible given the overall atmosphere of the room.

Almost.

Oliver and Felicity find their seats in an inconspicuous middle row, to the side near a window. Oliver places himself in the end seat next to the window carefully, and Felicity gives him a silent nod. The plan is that if anything were to go wrong during the ceremony, they send red sparks out the window and high enough so that Diggle could see.

Felicity turns to the front again. Walking along the perimeter of the room, Lyla looks around carefully. Her eyes find Felicity’s and neither make any move to acknowledge the other. They are careful to play their roles as the ARGUS agent who is simply on duty, and the student attending a ceremony in her school.

Still, Lyla’s presence is a comfort, knowing that if they can’t reach Diggle in time, they still have backup here is a comforting thought.

Felicity finds Dinah sitting in another row. After finding out the truth a few weeks before, Dinah was eager to learn anything. Felicity regretted how late she brought her friend into the fold, because there was little they could do to prepare her.

Felicity instead gave her friend explicit instructions to run at any signs of trouble, but Dinah only laughed her off.

Today, she stares ahead with a glint in her eye, watching as Felicity and Oliver did for any signs of trouble.

When the Great Hall fills up, Waller clears her throat and silence quickly falls over the room.

“Good morning,” she says calmly, “Thank you for being here today, as we commemorate the actions of the brave witches and wizards who fought for the freedom of the wizarding world, twenty years ago today.”

Waller pauses, looking around the room. Felicity finds herself, strangely, holding her breath. The Hall is so silent that she fears even blinking will make a sound.

“We are here today to honor our heroes who fought in The Battle of Hogwarts, on these very grounds, to defeat the dark forces led by Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters.”

Some of the older people in the crowd visibly flinch as she uses Voldemort’s name. it’s never been a problem for Felicity or Oliver, but the older generation still hesitates when someone uses his name, even in the years since his death.

“Today, on the twenty year anniversary of the Battle, we remember those we lost. The Battle was primarily fought by students, bravely rising to the challenge of their oppressors and protecting their school and the values that were under attack.”

She pauses, and at this point people start to rise, in a part of the ceremony that has become familiar to Felicity. A wreath lies on the left side of the stage, and certain members of family will rise and conjure a white flower with their wands to it.

“Please take this moment to reflect as I recite the names of the Fallen Fifty. Lavender Brown, Colin Creevey,” by this point, people sitting near the front begin to rise with their heads bowed.

Felicity has to press her lips together tightly to fight the emotion that claws at her throat.

She’s seen this ceremony six years now, and this part never gets easier. It’s the same set of names, in the same alphabetical order, but the pain is still the same.

Watching as families still grieve over their losses two decades later is difficult. It seems as though time can’t heal the wound of losing their loved ones in battle.

Her head instinctively turns to Oliver, whose eyes are trained on the front. His jaw is clenched and his eyes shine with emotion. As she turns, his eyes find hers, and he takes her hand, as if sensing her pain.

Hearing the names of the Fallen Fifty reminds her how much they could lose today if they don’t succeed. This time, there is no Order of the Phoenix. There is no Dumbledore’s Army. Just two kids, a pub owner, his quick witted fiancée, and a lot of hope.

As more people rise, Felicity’s eyes narrow as she sees Malcolm get out of his chair and duck out into the aisle, an apologetic smile on his face as he gestures to the Minister that he needs to step out for a minute.

Next to her, Oliver tenses. They exchange glances at his strange behaviour.

Waller finishes reading the names of the fallen heroes, ending on Fred Weasley, which always sparks a particularly loud cry of grief from the front row.

An uncertain silence falls over the crowd as the wreath is drawn up, filled with white flowers. By now, she would wrap the ceremony up and thank the crowd, with some kind of message about maintaining peace to close it up.

This time, a teacher brings out a tall, clothed structure from a side entrance.

“In honor of twenty years since the Battle, I have asked Mr. Potter to join me today in unveiling a new statue that will be placed on Hogwarts’ grounds, to commemorate one of our fallen heroes.”

Harry Potter rises, and as he does everyone in the room’s back straightens just a little.

It’s no surprise to anyone over the years that Harry Potter has grown weary of his ‘Boy Who Lived’ status, and he has long stopped giving speeches on Remembrance Day, or doing any kind of public appearances in general. Therefore, that he planned something with Waller is surprising to most of the people in this room.

Everyone leans forward as he grips the side of the cloth.

“Headmaster Waller asked me to assist her in making something in commemoration of the Battle.”

For someone who doesn’t like public speaking, his voice carries through the crowd and captivates each listener. Felicity glances at Oliver out of the corner of her eye, but he focuses more on Malcolm’s still empty seat than Harry’s words.

“I wanted to make something to honor one of the bravest men I knew, without whom we might not have been able to win the war,” he says.

Together, he and Waller tug on the sheet to reveal a bronzed statue of a tall man, arms clasped together at his front, and long cloak draping to the bottom of where the statue is balanced.

“In honor of Severus Snape, former Headmaster of Hogwarts, the brave spy for the Order of the Phoenix, and the man instrumental in helping us win this Battle twenty years ago today.”

There is a silence, as everyone is caught in their awe, unsure if they should take this moment to applaud and break the solemn atmosphere of the day.

Waller steps forward.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter,” she says, “As we bring this year’s ceremony to a close, I would like to thank you all for coming, and leave you with a few parting thoughts.”

She pauses again, but this time it is an uncharacteristically wary one. Her eyes sweep over the crowd as though she, too, senses that something bad is coming today.

“Remember the lessons we learned from the war,” she says, “It is all too easy to forget why we had fought, but this Battle was one of light over darkness, of the good and true wizards over those who sought to divide us. We must work to maintain peace so that the sacrifices of those in the first war were not in vain.”

She takes a step, turning to step off the stage and effectively wrap up this year’s ceremony, but her head snaps up at the sound of the door to the Great Hall opening with a loud bang.

“Finally,” a voice declares, and all heads turn at the sound, “I thought this _ridiculous_ ceremony would never end.”

Oliver inhales sharply and draws Felicity in as they realize who it is.

Malcolm walks in, a confident smile on his face next to a tall man with platinum blond hair. Someone who Felicity had only seen in pictures.

“Damien Darhk?” someone by the front of the room calls out, “You’re dead!”

Darhk only laughs.

“Presumed dead,” he corrects, “A bit of an oversight on everyone’s part, though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He looks at Waller in disdain. She’s pulled her wand out and moves down the aisle between the seats, ready to protect the students.

“That was some speech,” he remarks, as though commenting on the weather outside today, “Though, I really could have done without all the flowery, united-we-stand nonsense.”

“Whatever you’re planning,” she says, her voice severe in a way Felicity has never heard before, “It won’t work.”

Darhk smiles.

“It will,” he says simply.

He waves his hand, and a flash of green light shoots Waller’s way.

Horrified screams echo through the room as Amanda Waller falls to the ground, dead.

It happens so fast that people stay frozen for a moment, the shock in the air almost palpable, before some begin jumping out of their seats and racing to Waller’s fallen form.

Some of the younger students are crying, being held back in the crowd while older students press their lips together and watch adults rush forward.

Felicity has to cover her own mouth to prevent herself from making a sound. Tears spring to her eyes as she looks at Waller’s body, and she forces herself to look away when Darhk begins moving.

He reaches the stage, ignoring the number of wands that are pointed at him. A small crowd of Death Eaters follow him, disarming any people who try and make any sudden moves towards their leader.

Darhk stops at the newly revealed statue of Snape, his mouth curling up into a sickening smile.

“I had to come back here,” he comments, “This is where it ended, this is where we made the Wizarding community a joke.”

He gestures to the statue.

“Look at this,” he says, “You want to _honor_ a double agent who stayed ambiguous on his alliances until the end? _This_ is your hero?”

He flicks his hand again, and this time the statue crumbles.

“All of this,” he says, gesturing to the school, “Your weak leadership, your peacetime efforts, you’ve made our race a mess. I can’t even tell which one of these students are Slytherin, not that it matters, the house is a joke itself now.”

“We stopped people like you before,” a brave voice speaks out – Felicity realizes with widened eyes that it’s Professor Longbottom.

Darhk only laughs, seemingly unbothered by the declaration.

“Well, now your students have been too busy being taught that dark magic was gone for good, that everyone would just _coexist_ ,” he waves his wand, and a pillar comes crashing down, the sound echoing through the space.

“I say, we just burn it all down and start from scratch. Shall we?”

From there, it feels as though all hell breaks loose.

Death Eaters begin erupting from everywhere – the door in which Darhk entered, fighting through the crowd of chairs to reveal themselves, and some even managing to apparate in.

Oliver takes the erupting chaos as his chance, jumping up to the window and sending sparks out. Felicity silently prays it reaches Diggle in time.

Students and teachers start to scramble, younger students are escorted out of the hall safely by teachers. Their eyes are wide, an innocence shattered in them in a way that breaks Felicity’s heart.

The staff quickly begins to form a united front, protecting any students they can, but Felicity watches in horror as some even begin to join the Death Eater’s sides.

Some students do too, and it doesn’t surprise them to see as Tommy makes his way to his father’s side, head held high. Alex Davis joins him with a smirk, along with a few students Felicity doesn’t recognize. All of them are seventh years, from different Houses, looking at each other with straightened backs, as though they had been ready for this moment all year long.

The dreadful feeling that built up in the pit of Felicity’s stomach grows. This was deeper than they realized. There were so many signs they missed.

Whatever barriers that existed in the school seem to be broken, as people are beginning to apparate freely. Death Eaters quickly fill the room, some people unknown to Felicity, some from the long forgotten pages of her history books.

In the corner, she sees a familiar flash of gray hair. Her father is here.

As though sensing her, his head turns in her direction, and something in his hard expression changes when he sees her.

Oliver grabs Felicity’s hand, and together they scramble to make themselves unnoticeable among the chaos. Their wands are drawn as they try to move across the room.

Tommy catches Oliver’s eye as they make their way along a wall in the Great Hall.

“You don’t look too surprised,” he calls out.

Oliver says nothing, his jaw clenched tight.

Tommy only shakes his head.

“I should have known, you and _her_. It’s not too late, Ollie.”

His voice is still confident, taunting in the way it always is.

Even if Oliver was planning on responding, he doesn’t get a chance, because the pandemonium picks up once more, a shout drowning out the noise as more bodies begin falling to the floor.

When they turn their heads back, Tommy is gone.

Felicity sees Diggle fighting his way through the crowd with Lyla, along with a small collection of ARGUS agents, identifiable in their black uniforms and silver badges.

If Felicity could make out anything among the fighting and the clouds of dust that form as the room crumbles, she would be able to see Harry Potter and friends, wands raised and fighting furiously as well.

“Stay down,” Oliver shouts in Felicity’s ear, “We need to stay unnoticed.”

Almost the minute he says it, his plan gets shot to hell.

“That’s the Smoak girl!”  

Felicity closes her eyes, stopping herself from laughing at the irony.

Oliver pulls her back behind him but it’s not quick enough. They get caught under a falling window, courtesy of the unknown Death Eater who spotted them, and Felicity falls flat on her back.

She groans, her head spinning and her eyes aching as she tries to get up.

As she sits up, with Oliver’s help, she hears a dreadful cracking sound. Her head snaps down at the sound, fearing briefly that she injured herself. Instead, the sight that greets her is arguably just as bad.

Her wand is broken. It snapped cleanly in two pieces, the core of it falling limp on the floor.

If it was at all possible to feel more disarmed in this situation, she is now _literally_ disarmed. A strange, disconnected part of her wants to cry for the loss. Her wand was her first connection with the Wizarding world when she was eleven, and now it is gone.

Still, she is not given a chance to think about it, because Oliver is pulling her up, and cupping her face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” she says, “But…”

She gestures to the ground, and Oliver’s frown deepens.

He grabs her hand, shouts, “Stay low!” and starts running until they reach the doors of the Great Hall, only stopping once they’re out of the room.

He doesn’t stop, running into the empty halls without once breaking pace. His grip on her hand is tight.

“Oliver, where are we going?” Felicity tries to tug on his arm as he leads her through the empty hallway, “The entire castle is _literally_ falling apart.”

“I know,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. He slows their pace down to more of a brisk walk, but Felicity still protests.

“So, we need to get back!” she says, “More Death Eaters are apparating in and we can’t exactly afford to be outnumbered right now.”

He finally stops, and the wall with a familiar plaque comes into view. The memorial for the Second War.

A horrible, sinking feeling settles in Felicity’s stomach.

“Oh no, no, no,” she tries to untangle their hands, “Absolutely not, Oliver.”

He looks at her unapologetically, like he expected this fight, but thinks he can win. Not if she has anything to say about it.

“Your wand is broken,” he says simply, “You’re tired. You’re not seventeen yet, so you shouldn’t have been fighting anyway.”

“Have you lost your mind? If you really think I’m going to leave you here –”

“You are,” he insists, “You’re going to go to The Foundry. Stay in the apartment upstairs, where Thea is waiting. You stay there until this is all over.”

“Oliver, why –”

“You said it yourself. Death Eaters are apparating and disapparating in and out faster than we can keep track. _Your father_ is here. I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

“My father is the reason we knew this was happening today,” Felicity argues, “He –”

“He cares about you,” Oliver insists, and Felicity is starting to get real irritated with his constant need to cut her off. “He wants you safe, I’m worried he’ll take you and apparate out of here to someplace I can’t find you and –”

He stops himself, pressing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again. He looks less shuttered when they open again.

“Oliver, _no_. We’ve been training, with Diggle. We’re prepared for this, you can’t honestly believe I’ll just leave you alone.”

“Felicity –”

“No,” she says firmly, “I’ve let you do this for too long. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you acted when we would train with Diggle. I don’t know if you think I can’t take care of myself or what –”

“Felicity, it’s not that,” he says, but now _she’s_ not letting him finish his sentences.

“Really, then what is it?” she demands, “Because that’s what it feels like sometimes.”

“I can’t lose you,” he finally blurts out, and something in his eyes change. He takes her hand, and Felicity finds it harder to grasp onto her indignation.

“I can’t lose you,” he says slower, his voice cracking, “Because I love you.”

Felicity freezes. The anger she felt before evaporates quicker than she can understand.

She doesn’t speak, but reaches up on her toes. Her hands grasp at both sides of his face and she pulls his lips down on hers. He matches the intensity in which she pulled him in instantly, his hands gripping her waist and pulling her in closer. It feels like life has been breathed into her.

When they finally part, she can feel herself smiling, despite everything.

“I love you too,” she says softly. The words are freeing, like a part of her knew for weeks but she could never admit it to herself until now. “But you know I can’t just leave you here alone. I’ll go crazy not knowing if you’re okay.”

Oliver lets out a long sigh, like he had expected this.

“You’re going to need a wand,” he says, resigned.

Felicity resists the urge to do a little victory fist pump. Not that Oliver would mind, given that _he loves her._

Yeah, she’s definitely going to need to revisit that one once they survive this.

“I know Diggle has an extra wand in The Foundry, and some other supplies, so it looks like we’ll have to go there anyway,” he says, “But we need to be quick.”

Felicity nods.

He turns to the memorial plaque, tracing the edges as always. But when the entryway is unveiled, someone is waiting in the passageway.

“Tommy,” Oliver growls. In one swift motion, he pushes Felicity behind him and draws his wand out.

“Were you just standing there, waiting?” Felicity muses from over Oliver’s shoulder, but the two men ignore her.

“I knew you two would come down here eventually,” Tommy taunts, “God, Ollie, you are so predictable. Are you forgetting that we found this passage together?”

Oliver’s jaw clenches.

“That was a real sweet speech just now. Touching, really,” Tommy continues.

Oliver raises his wand as Tommy draws nearer, one arm still held out to keep Felicity back.

“Too bad I’ll have to take you both out. _Expelliarmus_!”

Oliver is instantly disarmed, faster than either of them can realize, and they can only watch helplessly as his wand flies into Tommy’s outstretched hand. He grins as his fist closes around the wand.

“Now, just in case you have any friends that want to get out later,” Tommy points upward, to the entryway of the passage behind him, “ _Bombarda!_ ”

There is a small explosion, and the stones begin crumbling in the passageway, effectively closing it off, making it impossible for anyone to go in or out of the castle from there. Tommy watches with a satisfied grin before turning back to Oliver and Felicity, wand still up.

Oliver raises his arms in defense slowly.

“Tommy,” he says calmly, “You don’t want to do this.”

That’s when Felicity pays attention. There’s a tremor in Tommy’s outstretched hand, and Oliver’s right. He _doesn’t_ want to.

“I have to,” Tommy says simply, “I let _her_ go once. They didn’t like that.”

His cold eyes fall on Felicity. There’s a lot of anger in them, and genuine hatred. It’s the same look that haunted her for months. She steels her spine.

“They won’t like anything,” Oliver says steadily, “Listen, Tommy, we know this isn’t going to end well. If you go down, we can help you. We know people in the Ministry, they’ll say you were being forced by your father. You’re young, it’ll be okay. Just, put your wand down, man.”

At Oliver’s words, his calm voice, Tommy’s determination falters. Felicity can see the change flicker across his face. His wand lowers just a fraction.

The three are silent as Oliver’s speech hangs in the air. Around them, the castle still crumbles. Felicity can hear fighting coming from the hall not too far from them. All of it seems so far away right now as they hold their breath, waiting for Tommy to relent.

In the end, it isn’t enough. The confusion passes, and Tommy raises his wand higher, his hand no longer trembling.

“God,” he scorns, “Being with her has really made you weaker, hasn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Oliver says confidently, “She’s my strength.”

Tommy pretends to gag, and then he laughs.

“Sorry, Ollie,” he says, “I didn’t choose the wrong side. You did, just like your father. You can tell him that when you see him again.”

He raises his wand once more, and Felicity braces herself.

But a small sound makes Tommy pause again.

It starts with one rock. More of a loose pebble, really. It falls from the archway where Tommy stands and lands on the floor next to his shoe. It’s nothing, compared to the large pile of rubble behind him. She wouldn’t have noticed if Tommy didn’t pause to check if his shoe stayed clean.

But a distant, rumbling sound begins to erupt from the ceiling. None of them have time to register before the archway collapses in a mass of brown stone.

There’s a healthy amount of dust, and it makes Felicity throw her arm over her mouth and cough. When the cloud settles, Oliver lets out a small gasp next to her.

In the rubble, all that is visible is Tommy’s head, coated in the same brown dust that filled the air a moment ago, moving from side to side.

He grunts, baring teeth as he clearly tries to lift himself out of the rubble.

It occurs to Felicity before Oliver that he’s stuck.

She walks over first – slowly, unsure. A gasp escapes her lips when she realizes the extent to which Tommy is trapped under the debris.

“Oliver,” she says gently, “You need to…”

She doesn’t have a wand, she can’t do anything. But even if she did, she feels like she can’t move. This is the same person who almost let her die months ago. The same person who would have killed her if not for the collapsing archway. But that doesn’t mean she can just watch him die.

When the events catch up to him, Oliver finds himself jogging over. His breaths are shallow as he leans down to look at Tommy, who is still quietly groaning as he tries to free himself.

“I don’t… I don’t have my wand,” he says helplessly, “He… He disarmed me.”

Felicity feels a horrible, sinking feeling in her chest. She looks at the pile of rubble, imagining the two wands held tight in Tommy’s fist.

Either the weight of the rocks becomes too much for him, or the adrenaline starts to wear off, but Tommy starts letting out horrible, loud gasps of pain.

“Oliver,” he rasps out, and Felicity can see how the sound of his name snaps Oliver out of it.

He starts moving immediately, pushing rocks to the side with no rhyme or reason. He starts with the ones near Tommy’s neck, one that digs into the top of his skull. He begins shoving them to the side with grunts

“Oliver, leave it,” Tommy pants out.

“Shut _up_ , Tommy,” Oliver says harshly, not meeting his former best friend’s eyes as he tries to move a particularly large boulder off Tommy’s arm.

When he struggles to move it on its own, Felicity leans down to help him. They’re both worn out from the day’s events, but quietly they make work of trying to free Tommy.

Felicity tries very hard not to focus on the way Tommy’s eyes start to get heavier, how his breathing slows down. She tries very, very hard.

Instead, she looks at Oliver. His face is flushed red, sweat trickling down from his forehead as he works. He still won’t look at Tommy, jaw clenched tight as he tries to push more of the rubble away. Felicity wonders if he’s aware of the eventuality that Felicity is starting to see – or if he just won’t accept it.

Either way, she knows that Oliver could never leave Tommy here to die, no matter what he did to them, no matter what he would have done five minutes ago. That’s not who Oliver is.

But he’s not superhuman. Eventually his movements slow down and his arms ache too much to go on, so they fall limp at the sides as he tries to catch his breath.

Felicity finally manages to look at Tommy again. His black hair, which was earlier coated in dust, is now damp with a dark maroon colour, the sizable amount coating down the side of his face makes Felicity’s stomach turn over in dread.

“Oliver,” he says again. Felicity tries not to wince. His voice sounds so much worse than before. “Stop. It’s over.”

Oliver looks at Tommy, his face twisting in a confused arrangement of emotions.

“I tried,” he says, defeat colouring his tone.

“I know… You tried to save me. I wouldn’t have… I wouldn’t have,” Tommy stops to grunt, the words apparently too hard to get out.

“You would have,” Oliver says determinately.

Tommy’s eyes finally reach Felicity, the pale blue looking increasingly vacant by the second.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

The quiet declaration catches Felicity off guard. She honestly doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t know if it’s an apology she can accept, if it it’s at all fair to her, if it’s what he deserves, if she could live with herself for denying it, so all she says is, “Okay.”

Tommy nods. His tongue skates over his dry lips once and he tips his head back.

Oliver doesn’t move for a long time, not when Tommy’s eyes slide shut. Felicity stays silent, waiting for him to give some kind of reaction. But he sits still, his back straight as an arrow as he watches Tommy, as though trying to find an answer in the body.

A few minutes pass, and a bang from the floor above reminds Felicity of what’s been going on around them. She gently reaches out and puts a hand on Oliver’s arm.

“Oliver,” she says quietly, worried about startling him, “I can’t imagine… what you’re feeling right now. But we need to –”

Her words are cut off when Oliver finally does move, picking up a stray rock from the rubble and angrily flinging it down the hall. He punctuates the movement by a grunt that can only be described as pure _agony._ The abrupt movement makes her flinch, but she doesn’t think he notices.

As the rock clatters down the hall, Oliver’s head drops, breathing heavily into his chest.

Then, he laughs.

“Oliver,” she tries again. He’s in shock, but somehow, she doesn’t think this is a good sign.

Then she looks down and she almost laughs herself.

The rock Oliver picked up revealed Tommy’s hand, where he loosely gripped two wands, somehow miraculously intact.

“Wands,” Oliver says simply, “At least the stupid bastard gave us something.”

He rises to his feet, dusting off his pants. Felicity mirrors his actions automatically.

“Come on,” he says roughly, “We’d better get going.”

“Oliver, please,” she tugs on his arm, and this time he looks at her, “You don’t need to – you can take a minute – just –”

“I know,” he says, and exhales one long, shuddery breath, “I know, but I can’t focus on it right now. Later. Right now, we need to move.”

She wants to argue with him, but the pain swimming in his eyes tells her everything. He can’t let himself think about this right now, not when everything is at stake. If he starts, it won’t be easy to stop.

“Okay,” she says, “Let’s go.”

He hands her Tommy’s wand and she holds it uncertainly. It’s the same wand that he pointed at her months ago, leading her to her fall. It was the wand that almost killed her just minutes ago. Now she’s going to use it to save her school.

They make their way back to the Great Hall. By now, the fight has sprawled out of the room and continues into the hallway, onto several floors and staircases.

Oliver and Felicity duck their way through Death Eaters and fighters, and return to the Hall, where it seems the height of the battle is taking place.

It’s absolute destructive chaos. Felicity can’t make out Death Eaters from the good guys anymore, but people are fighting and falling to the ground, flashes of green light up every corner of the room. It’s a bloodbath.

Groups have formed. Some of the survivors of the previous war are working in a formation that looks unfamiliar to Felicity. In one corner, there is a large group of older students, led by Dinah, protecting any younger students who got caught in the battle and couldn’t escape right away.

The castle’s destruction continues, just as Darhk had wanted. The windows are all broken, and outside the field looks as though it has been lit aflame. Smoke flies up into the sky, making it seem like a dark night instead of the middle of the day.

In the midst of all of it, Darhk watches with a satisfied grin on his face. He fights off anyone who tries to attack him with a lazy flick of his wand, as though merely annoyed that someone could interrupt his entertainment. He delights in watching the castle crumble, seems utterly unbothered by the amount of his own people who become casualties.

Oliver and Felicity manage to find Diggle in all the chaos easily. He’s fighting a Death Eater Felicity recognizes as Professor Morrison, their streams connected. A vein in his temple pulses and Felicity can see that he is losing his ability to hold Morrison off.

“Oliver,” Felicity says, bringing his attention to their friend’s fight. They sprint over, raise their wands and cry out together.

Oliver Stupefies Morrison, not wanting to do any further damage, and Felicity disarms him.

The stream being broken makes Diggle fall flat on the ground, and both rush to help him up.

“You alright?” Oliver shouts above the chaos. Diggle nods, swiping at the sweat that gathered on his upper lip.

“I see your plan to get her out didn’t work,” Diggle calls out with a hint of a smile, and Felicity’s mouth drops open indignantly.

“John!” she shouts, “You knew?”

“Hey,” Diggle throws his hands up defensively, “I told him he was being an idiot, and that you’d never agree!”

“Can we maybe –” Oliver pauses, slashing his wand through the air to fight off an approaching Death Eater “—Talk about this later?”

Both Felicity and Diggle fight smiles, despite the situation, and nod. The three of them begin running towards the shattered windows, where it looks like nobody is willing to stand.

Felicity takes the time to _really_ take stock of who is there and who isn’t. Slowly, Death Eaters are starting to fall, and more importantly, some are getting scared and starting to flee. They look both ways, as though hoping Darhk won’t notice before apparating out of the building. They know who is going to win this fight and who is going to lose, and it makes Felicity’s heart soar with hope.

They came in half cocked, with no real plan and a leader who is too satisfied in watching the castle fall apart instead of seeing to it that his men don’t die. They were too confident in their plan and hadn’t anticipated people fighting back.

When Felicity takes a moment to catch her breath – an unnatural cold feeling washes over her. It catches her by surprise, because she is warm and sweaty from the day, but it feels as though her chest has been doused with ice water.

What was left of the light in the Great Hall completely vanished. Outside, where the smoke from the fire has turned the sky gray, it now feels as though they have been thrown in the middle of the night.

The cold settles into Felicity’s bones, a feeling of unparalleled dread fills her, and she turns to look out the window.

She’s read about them for years, studied them even more closely now after the lessons in The Foundry, but no amount of reading can prepare her for the true sight.

Dementors descend onto the grounds and into the Great Hall. There’s only a few of them, spreading out among the people both outside and in. They glide silently, and one makes its way to Oliver, Felicity and Diggle.

The coldness feels biting now, as though tearing from her insides out. She finds herself unable to look away as the Dementor nears her. Watching it approach, she feels empty, numb. She can hear the sound of a horrible scream reverberating in her brain, feels the sensation of falling in her chest though she knows she can’t move.

Her head pounds with a pain so sharp she wonders if it might just burst from the force of it.

It’s then that she realizes the pain isn’t internal, but that the Dementor has floated right up to her and has opened its mouth. If she had the ability to even look right now, she’d know that Oliver and Diggle are just as stuck as she is. The Dementor’s kiss leaves them frozen in place, tugging at their souls.

A part of her – one that apparently went dormant during this – begins to stir.

 _No_ , she thinks absently, _I can’t let this happen._

With all the force she can muster, she raises her wand. Her arm feels as though it’s moving through cement as she does, but she points it at the cloaked creature anyway.

She tries to concentrate on the lessons Lyla taught her. The words from their lessons sound distant in her brain, but she tries to zero in, to focus on what she practiced.

She closes her eyes. She thinks of the first afternoon she spent at The Foundry, laughing over fries with Diggle and Oliver. She remembers feeling like she was at home – more than she had in Vegas, and more than she ever had in Hogwarts.

“Expecto Patronum!” she says, but it’s not enough.

She tries harder, searching her brain for any happy memory, but it feels as though the Dementor has drained all of them away from her.

Instead, all she can imagine is cold eyes, falling, fear, and walking away from heartbreak. There are no good memories.

She grits her teeth. There _are_. This is the Dementor’s doing. She tries to focus again, though now she feels a tugging at her chest. Instead of letting that feeling scare her, she uses it to urge herself on.

She thinks of the hallway, not so long ago. Of a frantic ‘I love you’ in the middle of destruction. She thinks of Oliver, her ridiculous, stubborn, headstrong, Oliver, of all the love he’d given her this year, and she begins drawing circles in the air again.

“Expecto Patronum!” she says, the volume of her voice surprising even herself, “ _Expecto Patronum!”_

She falls back in surprise as a bright white light erupts from her wand. From it emerges a large silver bird, it’s brilliant feathers spread wide, and a long tail that glows to the tip in an almost golden hue.

It’s a phoenix, Felicity realizes absently, the shock of producing an actual Patronus prevents her from thinking much else.

She watches as the silver phoenix flies to the Dementor, effectively chasing them off. The feeling of coldness is immediately gone, and the normal warmth returns to her body with an almost burning sensation.

She finally looks to Oliver and Diggle, who have also dropped to the floor. Both of them watch the spot the Dementor last vacated, breathing heavily.

“That was—” Oliver’s mouth hangs open in awe, “Felicity, that was _amazing_!”

Diggle shakes his head proudly

“That was something else,” he says, gently bumping her shoulder.

Felicity ducks her head, “Can we maybe talk about _that_ later too?”

Oliver grins.

“We will,” he says proudly, “At length. That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I agree,” a voice calls out, and the three turn their heads to see Damian Darhk approaching them. There’s a glint in his eye as he zeroes in on Felicity.

He motions to someone behind Felicity’s shoulder.

“Get her,” he says, bored.

It happens all too fast for anyone to notice. But arms come down on her midsection and she is pulled away.

She watches Oliver helplessly, and his arms hang rigid by his sides, though his mouth is turned down in a frustrated frown. He’s been frozen, and she’s guessing so has Diggle.

The Death Eater brings her face to face with Darhk. She cranes her neck to meet his eyes, not willing to be intimidated by him.

“You,” he says, “Shouldn’t be so important.”

There’s a definitive anger in his voice now, one that hadn’t been there all day.

“But somehow, you’ve turned things upside down. You’re just some filthy Muggle’s daughter, and you’ve had one of my brightest men acting reckless. Oh, put that wand down, Noah,” he says abruptly, and Felicity sees over her shoulder that her father approaches Darhk from behind his back, “Don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve been trying to make contact with her all year. You almost ruined everything.”

His face twists into something a lot more dark.

“Almost.”

“Look around,” Felicity says. There’s an edge in her voice now she’s surprised she even has, “It’s over. Your people are falling back or are dead. Your army wasn’t as strong as you thought it would be.”

Darhk’s nostrils flare at her words, and it gives her the strength to continue.

“You though a bunch of kids raised on a culture of peace wouldn’t be able to fight back. You were wrong.”

Darhk only rolls his eyes.

“No one likes a chatter mouth, Miss Smoak,” he says, a bored tone colouring his voice once more, “ _Crucio._ ”

Immediately, she drops to her knees.

The effect of the curse hits her immediately. The pain feels white hot, piercing through her chest like a knife and clawing at her spine. It courses through her veins as though it’s entered into her bloodstream. It invades her brain, at every nerve ending and makes her feel as though her skin is on fire.

Her mouth falls open, and she wants to cry out, to scream, but the sound doesn’t quite come. Instead she feels herself making sharp gasps as waves of pain continue to wash over her.

As she falls to the floor, distantly she can hear as people call her name. She hears Oliver’s desperate cry. If she could see him, she’d see as he helplessly strained against his invisible constraints, the veins in his neck pulling. Her father cries out, more quietly, as though he’s resigned.

Other voices speak, but Felicity’s head feels as though it has been dunked in water and everything becomes muffled.

“You can end her suffering now, Noah, you know that,” Darhk comments, “Kill her.”

Felicity manages to force her head up to look up at her father. She opens her mouth but struggles to form the words. Her eyes are pleading.

Her father moves around Darhk slowly, hesitating briefly as he meets Felicity’s eyes. There is regret in them, in the same way she saw when he entered her dream.

His arm is raised, wand pointed at Felicity, and he furrows his eyebrows. Absently, Felicity realizes that he is no longer in control of his actions. His face beings to turn scarlet, the vein in his forehead rising as he clearly tries to fight Darhk’s control.

Felicity’s mouth twists open again as another sharp pain shoots through her. it constricts her throat and she hunches forward again.

Darhk sighs as he watches. Silently, the curse ends and Felicity slumps forward, gasping. She keeps her body upright by balancing herself with her hands, but somehow doesn’t have the strength to stand upright just yet.

“You really have to do everything yourself these days,” Darhk remarks, “I’ll just have to kill the girl myself. Avada –”

“No!”

Her father, apparently having gained control back, jumps forward. He throws himself in front of Felicity just before a flash of green light blinds her vision.

When the light passes, leaving spots dancing across her eyes, Noah slumps to the floor, vacant eyes wide open.

Darhk laughs as Felicity leans forward in horror, brushing against Noah’s thin hair.

There are no words.

She didn’t know this man, she resigned half her life to absolutely hating him for leaving her, and then absolutely hating him for the allegiances he chose. He was deeply on the dark side, he caused more pain than she could even know over the course of the two wars.

And yet, he gave up his life, for her.

Oliver rushes forward, throwing his arms around her and pulling her up.

“Hey,” he whispers frantically in her ear, “Hey, look at me, look at me. You’re okay, you’re okay.”

She leans into his touch, letting him ground her as the confusing grief clouds her senses.

“Oliver Queen,” Darhk drawls out, “I almost forgot about you.”

“It’s over, Darhk,” Oliver mirrors Felicity’s words from earlier. Aurors, led by Lyla, begin to surround Darhk. They all raise their wands as they move in a circle. One disarms him easily.

Darhk only raises his eyebrow.

“I suppose it is, kid.”

Felicity furrows her eyebrows as he raises his hands to his head. He surrenders easily, almost too easily, as though he anticipated this very outcome.  

She takes a moment to look around the room again, and indeed his entire army is defeated, dead or in the process of being arrested. Malcolm Merlyn stands in a corner, furious as Harry Potter detains him. The fire that was lit outside is gone, and gentle light begins to trickle into the Great Hall again.

“Ideas never die,” he says quickly as the Aurors move in on him, “You thought you won twenty years ago, too. Don’t you see? There will always be people like us. Blood purity will _always_ prevail. Your school will fall.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lyla says, imitating Darhk’s casual drawl almost perfectly, “Tell it to the nice folk in Azkaban.”

He is taken away by the Aurors, Malcolm following closely behind him.

Oliver’s arms tighten around Felicity as they watch.

“It’s over,” he whispers into her hair, “It’s actually over.”

Felicity’s head drops to his chest, exhaustion starting to pull at her.

“Yeah.”

She looks around the room, to the destruction, to the bodies from both sides. She sees her father’s corpse on the floor. She thinks of Tommy under the rubble.

It was over, and they’ve won.

Somehow, victory feels empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [big, long, dramatic exhale] 2. More. Left. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think 
> 
> twitter – smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	24. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity process the events of the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and thanks to everyone for the kind words last time. This is the last proper ~chapter~ if you don’t count epilogues. I’m a little choked up thinking about it.
> 
>    
> Enjoy!

Felicity waits by the lake.

It’s not the prettiest picture today. The grass is charred, debris floats in the water, a cold breeze makes goosebumps rise on her arms.

Still, she feels perfectly content to stand near the lake, where it’s a little quieter and a little less suffocating than inside Hogwarts.

There’s been a lot of commotion that happened since Darhk and the remains of his crew were arrested. Everyone is scrambling to figure out the future of the school, given the general damage and murdered headmaster.

“Hey, you,” a voice gently calls out from behind.

She turns to see Oliver. He looks about as exhausted as she feels, still in his black clothes from the day. Dust sticks to the sides and dirt falls on the scrapes of his arms, but still his tired eyes are warm as he approaches her.

She throws her arms around his shoulders almost reflexively. He bends low so that his chin brushes against her shoulders and then he’s crushing her into him.

They don’t say anything for a few moments. She takes the chance to just breathe him in – to feel the rise and fall of his back under her hands, to feel his steady heartbeat against her. He exhales shakily and draws her in impossibly closer, and she knows that he feels the same way.

“I couldn’t find you after…” he trails off, and she can feel in the way his voice wavers that the distance made him uneasy.

Oliver and Felicity had been pulled apart in the immediate aftermath of Darhk being taken in.  

Diggle had called Oliver for some help with a student that was caught under the destruction in the Great Hall. Felicity had almost gone over to help them, but when she caught Dinah out of the corner of her eye her feet switched paths. She ran over to her friend instantly, relieved to see that she was okay. The two of them helped free a professor from under a pillar and account for any missing people.

After that, she couldn’t find Oliver again. There was so much destruction, so many people with injuries that needed tending to, bodies were beginning to be lined up at the front of the Great Hall, Amanda Waller leading the group. She  _ did  _ see Thea walking through the hall, wide eyed, and Felicity knew that Oliver must have sent a message for her to return before they started to take account of all the present students.

The few Ministry officials remaining, and some Hogwarts teachers began to discuss the future of the school, of its leadership, and Felicity heard something about the board being called for an emergency meeting.

Eventually, the noise became too much for Felicity. The noise of adults arguing over Hogwarts’ future. The noise of family members apparating into the school and their horrified screams as they found their children or their loved ones in the front. It was overwhelming. So she started walking, and didn’t stop until she pushed past the dusty hallways and onto the ground. 

“I came out here,” Felicity gestures to the water, “Just to get a little bit of air. Everything in there was…”

She trails off, twisting slightly to face the castle. It’s a difficult sight to behold, half of the brilliant castle’s bricks have crumbled. The roof of the east tower is still smoky from a fire that had only recently been put out. The brilliant school - her home -  is reduced to a shell of what it was.

“I know,” Oliver says, “I was helping John account for some of the students, but after a while it was just…”

He shakes his head, sighing heavily as his hands tuck into his pockets. She wonders if the sounds inside affected him as much as they did her.

“I went back for him,” he finally says after a few minutes of silence. Felicity turns her head back to look at him, but his eyes don’t leave the lake. They’re glassy now, but he stares forward with determination, “For Tommy, I mean. I couldn’t—”

He breaks off when his voice catches, and his head lowers.

His grief is not loud. There is no sobbing, not much crying at all. She knows from their time together that Oliver is a very private person, and that he likely wants to save his grief for a private moment. She imagines the tears will come later. For now, he’s holding himself tight, the tension rolling down from his shoulders to his clenched fists. She knows that soon it’ll snap, but he’s not ready to let that happen just yet. 

Gently, Felicity raises her hand to settle on his arm.

“Oliver,” she says, “I’m so sorry.”

It feels criminally inadequate, but it is all she can think to say. She wishes she could take his pain away, or weather it herself.

Something in his expression tightens.

“I didn’t save him,” he says, “I should have tried harder, I shouldn’t have waited so long, I could have gotten through to him. I knew him, I knew him since we were –”

He cuts himself off again, this time with one harsh, shuddering breath that wretches at Felicity’s heart.

“Oliver,” she says gently, this time taking her hands in his face so that he can look at her, “It wasn’t your fault. Tommy made his choices. You gave him a chance, and he didn’t take it.”

Oliver says nothing, his eyes slipping shut. Hot tears leave tracks down his cheeks, and Felicity wipes them away gently.

When he opens his eyes again, the sorrow is still there, but considerably lessened.

He takes her hand and squeezes it in a silent  _ thank you _ .

“How are  _ you _ holding up?” he asks, “You know, with your father…”

This time it’s Felicity turning to face the lake. She’s tried very hard not to think about that, but at his question the images flash in her head involuntarily.

She lifts a shoulder.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly, “I don’t know how I should feel. He gave up his life for me, but that doesn’t take away all the horrible things he did.”

Her eyes slip shut, and when they do she hears Darhk’s laughter, and the sound of his wand drawing up before the flash of green light that was meant for her. She sees Noah’s body, limp on the floor, his eyes slack and unmoving.

Oliver’s hand is still intertwined with hers, and he pulls her closer. When she opens her eyes, there is the familiar comfort in his own watching down on her.

“I understand,” he says softly, “But when I had to watch… and I thought I was going to lose you…”

His jaw clenches, the muscles moving.

“I had never been so scared in my life,” he admits, “I felt so helpless, I couldn’t move, I could only watch as he  _ tortured _ you. I’d been so grateful it wasn’t you.”

Felicity can only nod. The emotions are still hard to place, too many different feelings swirling around before she can place it in one neat box and deal with it.

For now, she allows herself to be grateful for where she stands.

There is a distinct sound of apparition, and both Oliver and Felicity turn to see a group of wizards in black, official looking robes walking towards Hogwarts’ entrance.

“I heard the school year is going to be cancelled,” Oliver comments.

“Yeah,” Felicity says, “You’re going to miss out on a proper graduation, sorry about that.”

Oliver chuckles, and it feels as though it’s been years since she’s heard that sound.

“I think I’ll be fine,” he says, his eyes shining with a different emotion, “I heard they’re putting together a group of students and staff to work on the rebuilding of the castle over the summer.”

This time, Felicity freezes.

“Mhmm,” is all she can respond with.

“I also heard you were the first person to sign up,” he says conversationally, “That you were willing to coordinate all the volunteers, give up your whole summer break.”

Felicity shifts uncomfortably, “Well, Professor Macmillan was right there, and he asked me, so…”

Oliver is smiling.

“Maybe I should get my name on that list, too,” he remarks, and Felicity finds herself returning a small smile.

At the sound of ground crunching beneath them, Oliver and Felicity turn their heads. Felicity’s eyes light up as they see Diggle and Lyla walking towards them. They look as exhausted as she feels, but something in Lyla’s tired smile is triumphant, like the victory was worth the pain.

“There you guys are,” Diggle says as they get closer. His arms are outstretched, and Felicity finds herself walking into them instantly.

Large hands pat her back soothingly, and she exhales deeply, the warm feeling of Diggle being safe and sound is a comfort. Out of the corner of her eye she can see as Oliver moves to embrace Lyla with one arm.

“We just needed some air,” Oliver explains when they part, and he claps Diggle on the back, “I’m glad you guys are okay.”

Lyla nods.

“Things could have been a lot worse if you guys hadn’t noticed the signs so early,” she says, “It was really good work.”

Felicity purses her lips together uncertainly. The words should make her feel proud. She should feel proud.

But she doesn’t.

Next to her, Oliver is silent as well, likely recalling the body of his old best friend, and wondering what there is to feel good about.

Diggle senses the tension between Oliver and Felicity with a quick glance back and forth.

“So, Oliver,” he says in a light voice, “The year is done, you’re technically done school now. How does it feel?”

Oliver eyes the crumbing castle with a glint in his eye.

“Not exactly how I imagined it, I gotta say,” he says dryly.

“What’s the plan for after?” Lyla asks.

Oliver shifts his weight between his feet.

“I don’t know. I kind of thought I had a few more months to start thinking about my  _ career _ but…”

Lyla’s eyes narrow slightly, as though evaluating something in his form.

“You were pretty quick on your feet out there,” she comments, “You’re a good fighter. What were your Defense Against the Dark Arts grades like?”

“Top of his year,” Felicity chimes in before Oliver can give a – likely self-deprecating – response.

Oliver’s cheeks start to turn pink, and he gives Felicity an accusatory look, but she only shrugs, as if to say,  _ it’s the truth _ . 

“I didn’t realize I was being evaluated out there, Lyla,” he says.

“You weren’t, I was just thinking…” she trails off, and Diggle shakes his head with a laugh, as though picking up on her train of thought.

“You are unbelievable,” he says with a grin.

“What’s going on?” Oliver asks.

“Oliver, how would you feel about a job as an agent in the ARGUS department of the Ministry?”

Felicity’s eyebrows shoot up and she finds herself fighting a proud smile.

“I..” Oliver goes from pink to red quickly, his eyes darting between Diggle and Felicity’s matching grins, “I… feel pretty good about it,” he says, and his shoulders seem straighter as he does.

“Great, come by later this week for a real interview,” Lyla says in a no-nonsense way that makes Felicity wonder what kind of boss she would be.

A group of ARGUS agents, in black with silver shields hanging from their waists, call Lyla over before Oliver can say anymore.

“I really need to get going,” Lyla says apologetically, “But again, good work you guys. Oliver, I’ll be seeing you.”

“I should get going too,” Diggle says. He holds an arm out for Felicity to duck under and she accepts the little rustle of her hair. “Take care, you two.”

With a crack, Diggle and Lyla apparate off the grounds, leaving Felicity and Oliver alone once again.

When the wind blows in their absence, Felicity feels as though a fresh wave of exhaustion hits her. She’s not sure if it’s just from today, or a culmination of every effort of the past school year finally coming to a close.

When she starts to sway on her feet a little, Oliver senses it with silent concern and gestures for them to settle down under a tree by the lake.

His arm wraps around her shoulder and tugs her in close, and she tucks her head into his chest. They watch the sun set over the water in silence. They’d done this exact thing a handful of times over the year, but this time there is a quiet intimacy that makes it feel different.

“Some year, huh?”

Okay, so Felicity doesn’t really  _ do  _ silence and quiet intimacy.

If possible, Oliver draws her in closer. Their legs tangle together and his fingers start to draw circles on her back.

“Some year,” he agrees.

Briefly, Felicity feels uncertainty grip her. She wonders if, given everything that happened, Oliver will need some time to process. If this new job and what happened with Tommy will take its toll on him and he’ll need to pull away.

When he presses his lips against her temple and lets his cheek rest on her head, the thoughts flee.

They went into battle together and came out the other end unharmed. She knows they’ll be just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One! More!
> 
> Thank you for reading.  
> twitter - smoakoverwatch  
> tumblr - overwatchandarrow


	25. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On 19 August 2018, John Diggle and Lyla Michaels wed. Oliver and Felicity reflect on the past year and their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well… here we are. 
> 
> I’d like to take one last chance to thank all the wonderful people who read, commented, kudos’d, liked, retweeted, reblogged or DM'd me about this fic. Your encouragement meant the world and kept me going on days where I felt like I couldn’t finish this. 
> 
> Quick thank yous specifically to my rockstar beta Adrianne, and to Sara/gothsmoak for lending her talents to my gorgeous covers. 
> 
> I’m not good with goodbyes, so this chapter isn’t me closing out the AU forever. I have 3 small one shots planned to round out Olicity’s story, but I do want to take a break from this universe (no matter how much I’ve grown to love it over these months) and explore writing other things.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for sticking with me on this journey.

 

 

 

John Diggle and Lyla Michaels get married on a warm summer evening in mid-August.

If Oliver knew anything about weddings, he’d likely have more to say on the event.

It’s a small affair, just family and close friends, held in the countryside.

They pulled the ceremony together quickly after the events at Hogwarts last May. When asked, Diggle could only smile and say they didn’t want to waste anymore time.

Oliver can definitely sympathize with that.

In the months in between the May 2 battle and John’s wedding, it feels as though everything has changed.

Oliver’s interview with Lyla went well, and he got started right away. It’s an entry level job, lots of training involved for the time being, but he loves it. Lyla is tough as nails for a boss, and never goes easy on him just because he’s friends with her fiancé. Some days he gets to shadow Lyla in her work and she’ll get his opinion on things, and it feels like he’s on the road to making a difference.

Work has also pushed him about being independent – he moved out of his childhood home almost immediately and now has a place for himself in Central London. His mother wasn’t too happy with the move at first, but it was difficult to stay in the same house he used to draw crayon on the walls with Tommy. Not to mention, he needs his own space.

Felicity’s a huge fan of his new place. While she’s spent the summer at Hogwarts to head up rebuilding efforts, she took weekends off to help him house hunt all around Muggle London. She took the time and delighted in getting to introduce him to television and the internet, and now even when she isn’t around, Oliver always has something playing on Netflix.

It’s been a hard adjustment, to go from seeing Felicity almost every day to occasional weekend visits, but Oliver knows the price is worth it. She’s taken on leadership of rebuilding Hogwarts effortlessly, even if it meant giving up her summer and going home to Vegas for the year. It’s helped them prepare for Felicity’s final year, and they’ve already worked out arrangements for Hogsmeade visits, and for the first time in her time at Hogwarts, Felicity won’t be spending the winter break alone at school.

Her summer arrangements aren’t without their downsides, however. When she told her mother she wouldn’t be home for the break, it led to a fight between them – Oliver watched as she shouted into a _cell phone_ and explained that this is what she needed to do.

When he’d asked about it later, if being away from home bothered her, all Felicity could do was shrug.

“Yeah, I miss my mom,” she said over boxes of takeout on his couch, nonchalance forced into her voice, “But it feels right to help. Hogwarts is home, too.”

Still, Oliver knew that the work had been draining, and she was more homesick than she let on. That’s why in July, for Felicity’s seventeenth birthday, Oliver managed to contact Donna Smoak and flew her up to England.

It was a bit of a struggle, considering he had to figure out Muggle air travel and recruit the help of some other interns at the Ministry, but the look on Felicity’s face made it all worth it.

She’s wearing the same smile today, as she watches John and Lyla exchange their vows. As groomsman, Oliver should probably be watching his friend in the biggest moment of his life, but somehow, he can’t tear his eyes away from Felicity in the crowd. Her hair is in loose waves over her shoulders, her usual glasses are gone, and the blush pink dress makes her glow. She catches his staring at one point and her smile grows wider.

Oliver’s caught by it in the entire ceremony. He only blinks away when John and Lyla share their first kiss as husband and wife, but even then his eyes immediately snap back to see Felicity wiping a happy tear from the corner of her eye.

The reception is small and not too formal. A small dancefloor centres the area, under twinkling lights. Oliver catches Felicity eyeing it on more than one occasion as they work their way through dinner.

“This was really nice,” she comments lightly, “I wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”

Oliver tries not to frown at the reminder that their time together is, once again, limited.

“What time did you have to be there by, again?”

“Too early,” she groans, “I’m aiming to get there by 9, but I’m not looking forward to it. Stupid Board and their stupid morning meetings.”

She stabs at the wedding cake with a little more force than necessary, and Oliver smiles.

He won’t say it, because he’s said it more than a few times this summer, but he’s wildly proud of how she’s taken a small volunteering role and now sits in on Board meetings as they try to decide on a new Headmaster. She still doesn’t entirely understand it, and mostly chalks it up to Professor Longbottom seeing “the value in a student’s input” but Oliver knows it’s _her._ She has a way of charming her way into people’s hearts and impressing them with her mind, but she doesn’t see it.

Lyla and Diggle, who had been making their rounds among the guests, pass by their table. Lyla eyes the cake on Oliver’s plate with a smile.

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much, Queen,” she says, “You still have work tomorrow.”

Oliver laughs.

“Well, my boss won’t be in for the next two weeks, so I think I can have a little fun tonight.”

She shoves his shoulder gently.

Felicity takes the moment to finally get up and hug the newly married couple.

“Congratulations, guys,” she says with a bright smile, “I’m so happy for you. It was a beautiful ceremony.”

“Glad you could make it, Felicity,” Diggle says with a knowing smile, “With the way Oliver talks, it sounds like Hogwarts hasn’t been giving you a day off this summer.”

Felicity looks at Oliver and rolls his eyes.

“He’s being dramatic,” she says, “I go to London every weekend.”

“Still not enough,” Oliver grumbles from his seat, and Diggle laughs.

“We better keep doing our rounds,” Diggle says, “But it was nice seeing you guys.”

Felicity watches them leave, stealing one more glance at the dancefloor as she turns back to her plate. Oliver fights a smile and looks over, where a few couples are slowly twirling.

He noticed it when Diggle and Lyla had their first dance, and when others had joined before dinner was served, and ignoring it any further would just make him a bad boyfriend.

“Hey, Felicity,” he says casually.

She doesn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“You want to dance?”

Her neck snaps up, eyes wide, and pink colouring her cheeks.

“Was I that obvious?” she asks with a wince.

Oliver shrugs, holding out a hand to lead her onto the dancefloor.

They settle somewhere in the middle, his hands spanning on her waist and her arms curling around his shoulders.

“Have I mentioned,” he says quietly, “That you look beautiful tonight?”

She laughs, “I think it came up a few times.”

It did. There was once in the bathroom as she got ready, once in his bedroom as he zipped the back of her dress for her, and once while she was slipping on her heels by the front door – _that_ one almost made them late.

“Then I haven’t said it enough,” he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Felicity only shakes her head with a smile, one that he immediately covers with his lips.

It’s a fairly chaste kiss, given how public they are at the moment, but when they pull apart Oliver finds himself fighting a swell of emotion.

“You know,” he says slowly, “It was actually around this time last year that I found my father.”

Felicity’s expression immediately sobers.

“I know,” she says, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately,” he explains, “Because of work, and the timing…”

He trails off, and she nods encouragingly.

“I knew everything had changed then,” he continues, “But I had no idea how much. This past year was…”

He breaks off, shaking his head.

“It was a lot,” he admits, “Losing my father, Tommy, being taken, the things I saw, none of it was easy. But…”

Felicity’s eyebrows furrow, “But?”

“But I had you. And you made everything easier. Better. I’m so grateful I met you.”

Felicity’s eyes start to shine.

“All because I picked a random train compartment,” she jokes, but her voice is a little deeper as she fights the emotion.

Oliver smiles at the memory.

“Lucky me,” he says.

She gives him another smile, one that lights up her face and makes his insides flip like the first time, before letting her head rest on his chest. He strokes her hair absently as they continue the rest of their dance in silence.

About a year ago, there were only a few things Oliver had known for certain. His father’s death had clouded his outlook on life, narrowed his focus down to protecting his family and making his father proud.

Today, he is more assured of who he is and what is to come. He knows for certain that he is on the path he was meant to be on with the Ministry, he knows he wants to make a difference, he knows his family is not his responsibility anymore.

And above all, he knows he is stupid-crazy in love with Felicity Smoak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mischief Managed.


End file.
